for always
by diannasbacon
Summary: AU l who would have thought after four years of not meeting because of certain diva's leaving and certain blonde's decision to join the army, they will meet again? their meeting, however, is nothing casual or accidental. Rachel Berry's life might be in danger and it is Quinn's responsibility to ensure of her safety.
1. Luck or Coincidence

**hi guys! i'm back! ever since Sweet Vengeance, my head's been flowing with fanfic ideas that i can't help but start writing again lol. anyway, i went with this idea and it's AU so if you're not into alternate universe, you should leave now. **

**thank you to my amazing beta reader, CES5410 aka Stephanie! find her if you need any beta reading. she's awesome**

**anyway, read, ponder and enjoy.**

* * *

She struggled to keep the military aircraft balanced in the air as dozens of cannon shots and whatever those green lights were flew up in the air around her. She took a deep calming breath and cursed her headphones mentally. Of all times, they had to stop working _now_. She had lost communications with the headquarters and she was left on her own. Truly alone.

The aircraft's missiles were long gone. She had used them when she infiltrated one of the military stations somewhere on the east side an hour ago. The craft rattled as a shot hit it and she knew that one of the wings was busted. Usually when one of the wings was busted, that meant everything was over for the pilot and passengers; but Quinn was nothing if not stubborn. She refused to give in to it and she quickly looked around herself, arms aching from pulling on the steering with as much force as she could. She clenched her jaw and suppressed a groan of pain, and kept pulling and pulling.

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing to be used to save her. She was at a dead end.

She turned back to the front and saw – she didn't know if she should call it luck or just simple coincidence – but there was a _flat_ terrain that was long and wide enough in front of her for the aircraft to land – or crash. She let out a laugh and exerted more force into pulling the plunging head of the craft to a more balanced situation. All she could do now was that…and hope that she'd survive.

* * *

There was someone calling her name. The voice was very familiar, and also annoying at the same time. She frowned and groaned, attempting to open her eyes and failing at the same time. She struggled again and managed to open her eyes just a little, allowing light to enter her vision and blinding her momentarily as she adjusted to it.

"_Quinn_," the voice called and it sounded anxious. "_Quinn, wake up_," the voice persisted and she could feel herself being shaken.

She shut her eyes again and slowly blinked them open. Her mouth opened to say something but her throat felt dry and sandy. So she closed it again and blinked the water in her eyes away, her vision finally adjusting and she could see a Latina looming over her with an anxious and frustrated look on her face. Quinn frowned and tried to remember who in the hell this lady was. God, her head hurt and she just wanted to go back to sleep, but this woman was shaking and practically yelling at her and all she wanted was to smack her upside the head.

She groaned again, hoping this woman would take the hint. Luckily for her, the Latina was smart enough and she stopped shaking and talking to her at the same time. _Thank goodness_, Quinn moaned inwardly and sighed. She carefully turned her head to face the woman, fully aware of the dull ache settling in her neck. She scrutinized her, trying her best to remember. Then it hit her.

_Santana Lopez_.

She frowned and wondered what the hell Santana was doing here. She should be in Washington, doing stuff at the White House or wherever she did her job. She should be monitoring the army stationed in Afghanistan. So what the hell was she doing here? Quinn noticed a jug of water sitting on the bedside table and moved her arm – slowly and painfully – to gesture at it. Santana glanced at the water and smirked.

"Get it yourself," she said. Quinn looked at her in a way that shouted I-would-if-I-could-but-I'm-kind-of-disabled-right-now-so-get-me-the-damn-water. Santana chuckled and poured a glass of water and handing it to her. Quinn took it and drank like she hadn't had a sip of water in ages, which was sort of true. "Now, can you talk?" Santana asked as soon as Quinn put the glass down. She nodded. "FYI, you're in Washington now. Okay, what the fuck happened in Afghanistan?" Santana said immediately and Quinn wanted to laugh at her straightforwardness but her throat still sort of hurt.

"I crashed my bird," Quinn croaked, clearing her throat afterwards to get her normal voice back.

Santana nodded knowingly and lifted a clipboard in her hand, scribbling on it. Quinn rolled her eyes. Stupid protocol and shit like that. Those things never did their job the way the government said they would.

"Yeah, I know that, Q. But how in the living hell did you get in a crash? You're like, the best fucking pilot I've ever known. And how could you not have a co-pilot with you? That's not following protocol."

"The protocol, Santana, says that the captain is required to be the last to jump if there are people in the aircraft. And there were people in the aircraft, okay? Soldiers, injured soldiers and my co-pilot. They all took the parachutes and there were none left. So I stayed. And you should know how freakin' stubborn I was – and still am," she added. "I do not regret staying in that plane, Santana."

"Well yeah, of course you wouldn't. Your nickname is Hardy McHardhead, so of course, you wouldn't regret it. But now, because of you, I've gotta move away from my extremely comfortable office and follow up on your shit. You're lucky you're not fucking dead and meeting Hades right now."

"I don't believe in that crap, S," Quinn said with a grimace and grunted.

"I don't care if you believe or do not believe in that crap, Q. I'm fucking pissed off at you because you went and crashed yourself and left me with a pile of paperwork that is not going to be useful in the future," Santana shot back. "And you are so very fucking lucky that you're my best friend and I fucking care about you."

Quinn grunted and looked up at the ceiling. "Stop with the f-bombs, Santana. I have enough in my head now."

Santana rolled her eyes and tapped her pencil on the clipboard. "Like I don't have shit in my head. I bet the shit you have in your head can't even compare to the shit I have in mine. Now stop fucking complaining and answer my friggin' questions." She glared at Quinn before she looked like she just realized something. "Oh and by the way, you're on paid leave for the next two years. You've also been given the option to be honorably discharged at this point. The President is very impressed with you and he thinks he's offering you a reward, when really he doesn't know that military and you are match made in hell."

"What?" Quinn exclaimed. "Why am I on leave? I'm perfectly capable of flying another plane."

"No, you are not. Apparently, you exerted too much strength and it tore your muscles and you have a shoulder injury. It might act up every now and then. And it's going to take a looong time fixing up. So yeah, Q Fab, you're going to have to sit back and relax for the next couple of years. Now stop changing the subject and answer my fucking questions. I'm sweating balls here."

"Oh yes that's nice to hear, Santana. You're giving me really pleasant images in my head. I just heard that I'm on a leave for two fucking years and there you go, cracking disgusting jokes, thus sending disgusting images into my head. So great," Quinn said, unamused.

"Yes, great. Okay, here's the next question. Why didn't you jump out of the plane after all the passengers did?"

* * *

"Kurt, you need to take off those heels and give them back to me," Rachel said in a bored tone as she applied her eyeliner.

Kurt Hummel, her publicist and also the 'captain' of her 'glamour' team, shook his head and glared at her through the mirror. "You are not wearing any heels tonight, Rachel Berry. Remember the last time you did? You almost face planted on the ground in freaking Central Park."

"That wasn't my fault!" Rachel shrieked in protest. "That stupid reporter wouldn't stop hounding and somehow he tripped me."

"I've told you a million times to hire a bodyguard but you won't listen," he said absentmindedly as he checked himself out in the mirror. She rolled her eyes and ignored his remark; instead she focused on combing her hair and sweeping her bangs to the side. "No, seriously, Rachel, you're a famous superstar. You're going to somehow be involved in something scandalous and as your publicist, I can't have that! Hire a bodyguard, will you?"

"No, Kurt. I am not hiring a bodyguard."

"Fine. If someone wields a knife at you in the future, don't regret it."

She chuckled and shook her head. "I'm not _that_ famous you know."

"Uh, yes you are. You're going to be in a film directed by the famous Artie Abrams. Yes, you're that famous. At least, you're going to be. And don't think I don't know anything because I've been doing this for my whole life, but this film you're doing right now s very risky. The content might offend someone." Rachel frowned. "Come on, you're acting as a lesbian in the army. How much more offensive can it get?"

"What you just said is offensive. Also, I love this job. I love the script, so shut your beak and help me put that damn dress on!" she said, jumping to her feet and stalking towards her closet. "I need to get on set as fast as possible."

* * *

When she arrived on set, Artie just had to prove Kurt right by telling them they received a threatening letter specifically addressed to her. Artie had summoned them to his office and offered Rachel a chance to pull out of the project if she wanted to. Honestly, she had never seen a director as kind as the one sitting before her in his wheelchair. Rachel rejected his offer the second he stopped talking.

"No, Artie, I'm not quitting. I will continue filming. I don't care if I get threatening letters," she said and after Artie thanked her and told her that offer still stood, she and Kurt left his office and headed towards her trailer. Before Kurt could say anything, Rachel stopped him. "Stop before you say 'I told you so', cause I swear I will punch you if you do that." She threw herself onto her couch and laid face down on it.

Kurt smirked and raised his brow. He lifted his hand and checked his fingers as he muttered, "I told you so." Rachel groaned loudly and threw a plush cushion at him. With a lucky shot, she hit him in the head and he gasped. "Damn it, Rachel! My hair was perfectly combed."

"Not my problem," Rachel drawled, her voice muffled by the cushions.

He looked at himself in the mirror, taking out a comb from his pocket and re-styled his hair into what he called a 'perfectly angelic style'. Then he turned to her and asked, "So are you going to hire a bodyguard now or are you going to keep throwing yourself into dangerous situations?"

"I love the risk," Rachel quipped and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I don't," Kurt said. "We should maybe get someone who was from the army or something."

"No!" Rachel quickly said, snapping her head towards him, truly glaring at him this time. "No one from the army, Kurt," she warned.

Kurt stared at her before his eyes brightened as it dawned on him. Then he looked at her with a sad smile. "You can't still be thinking about her, are you, Rachel?" She turned her head back into the cushion and ignored him, but he could see that she was just afraid. "Rachel, she's…she's gone. She went to the army and cut off all sorts of communications. You can't…you have to stop thinking about it."

She removed her face from the cushion and supported her weight on her elbows, looking at him with those oh-so-sad eyes she always had whenever she was thinking about _her_. "I can't, Kurt. I wanted to but I can't."

"Try."

"I've tried for four years, Kurt!" Rachel retorted. "And I can't. God, don't you think I've tried? I went out on dates. I slept with people. Gosh, I even got back together with Finn briefly, Kurt. And I can't stop thinking about her," she repeated. "I don't even know what got into my mind when I left her that day."

He sighed. "Because she joined the army. You were pissed. You weren't happy that she did it without consulting you. You thought you couldn't take it if she died."

"Stop," Rachel whimpered, rubbing her face and sniffled. "Stop," she repeated. "I know what I was thinking, okay, Kurt? I just…I regret it so much right now. I could have spent the last four months with her and be happy with her. But I had to leave. What the hell was wrong with me?

He nodded and stood up. He approached her and leaned down, putting a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. "It's too late trying to regret anything, don't you think? Now, you should focus on your job. I don't know, maybe one day you'll have luck and she'll suddenly appear right in front of you." She was silent and he sighed again. "I'm hiring a bodyguard for you, Rachel. And it'll be better if they're from the army. I don't care if you want them or not, I'm hiring a bodyguard for you."

She clenched her jaw and just waved her hand dismissively. She composed her face into the one she always carried, where she always carried a tiny little smile on her face to let everyone know she was okay. Only people who really knew her could see right through that, she thought, and the person who really knew her was now somewhere in the world fighting people from Iraq or Germans or wherever the government always deployed soldiers to.

Her heart never stopped aching over the woman she had been so in love with – and still was – who was out there, maybe losing her life at that very moment.

* * *

Quinn sat in the plane, which was ironic to her, as she wasn't piloting the bird. She turned to her left where Sam Evans was sitting, flipping through a comic book. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. When Sam was reading a comic book or anything relatively comic-y, don't even bother trying to talk to him. She reached behind her and took out her wallet from her back pocket, flipping it open and stared at a worn out photo in it.

She had taken it out and put it back so many times now that the photo was dog-eared and yellowed at the rims. A sad smile tugged on her lips as her thumb hovered over the beautiful and wonderful brunette who had the greatest grin on her face, staring into the camera with her soul bared.

In the photo, she had her arm around the caramel-brown eyed woman and her chin was settled comfortably on the woman's shoulder, tucked into the brunette's neck and grinning into the camera as well. It was taken five months before she went into the army; six months before the brunette left her behind in their apartment because she was pissed at her.

No matter how much she wanted to hate the brunette for leaving her and pushing her to join the army, she couldn't. She loved her too much. God, how she loved this woman.

"You know, it's been what…three? Four years since you guys broke up?" Sam questioned from next to her, his comic lying face down on his lap temporarily forgotten. "I never did understand why you didn't burn that photo the minute you landed in Iraq the first time you were deployed. You told me you were gonna burn it. And I was so freaking happy that you were finally 'letting her go'," he air quoted.

"I loved her," she whispered. "And I still do. This photo is like the only remnant of her I have. And I think the only reason I didn't die these four years is because I had this photo as my lucky charm or something."

"You believe in that kind of shit?" Sam said, looking at her incredulously.

She rolled her eyes and tucked her wallet back into her pocket. She released a breath and turned to him. "I believe in her," she finally replied.

He stared at her for a moment and twisted his fishy lips to one side. "Does Santana know you're still into her?" he asked and she stared at him, her jaw dropped. That was the most irrelevant question to be asked at the moment.

Quinn sighed and looked down at her hands. "Yes, she does. God, she knows everything about me, okay? I guess she sent you back to New York to keep an eye on me and stop me from thinking shit."

"Actually, yes. '_Keep her out of bar fights and shit like that and seriously, use a hammer if you need to when she starts to think. It's ridiculous how much nonsense she can cook up with her freaking leaded head_'," he quoted with a crooked grin.

She laughed and shook her head. "That's so Santana," she commented and he nodded with an eyebrow raised. "So how you've been doing while I've been gone? You know, with the Secret Service and things like that. What department are you in again?"

"CIA, Quinn," he said, rolling his eyes. "I tell you this every time you come back."

"Sorry, I can't really remember cause of the army and trying to remember strategies and stuff. Did you know we have to do inventories?" she complained.

"You told me that as well," he deadpanned. "Are you sure you don't have amnesia? Cause you sure look amnesiac now." She slapped him on the arm and poked his ribs. He winced and rubbed his chest. "Anyway, it's all good. I get banged up once in awhile and I get to shoot sometimes. Found out, shooting ain't that fun," he said with a harsh exhale. "Now, I get to accompany a temporarily soldier on leave. How fun," he concluded sarcastically.

She smirked. "Any special girl I should know about?" She waited for a few seconds and only got silence. Slowly, she turned to him and he was pursing his lips, obviously pretending he didn't hear her. She grinned and smacked his chest. "There _is_ some girl. Come on, tell me about her."

He flinched and massaged his chest again. "Seriously, girl, how much strength do you have? You're like a freaking superwoman or something." She rolled her eyes at his exaggeration and stared at him expectantly. "Fine. I just met her a few weeks ago. Her name is Mercedes Jones. She works in a coffee shop and she sings. Like, really awesome."

There was a light in his eyes as he talked about this girl and she smiled, remembering a time when she was like this as well. "She must be really special," she muttered and he nodded.

"Yeah," he murmured. "She's amazing."

She smiled and looked to the front, grabbing a random magazine from the seat back in front of her and started reading it. Though she was certainly not focused on the magazine, because she knew in the back of her mind she was going to be in the same city as her former love.

* * *

Quinn settled into the cab as Sam sat next to the driver. She looked out the window to gape at the city she had left and hadn't seen in four years. Her eyes were twinkling as they passed by and she stared at the billboards and the people and god, Central Park.

She saw someone called Blaine Anderson on one of the billboards and she grimaced when she saw the amount of gel he had in his hair. She wondered how people could have sex with him and tug on his hair. That would be…slippery. Then she froze when she saw a really large billboard hanging on one of the buildings.

It read:  
_Armed for the Better  
starring..._

"Rachel Berry," she whispered. Memories flooded her head and she gasped. From the moment they first met to the moment Rachel walked out the door. Quinn instantly moved away from the window and stared into space, trying to regulate her breathing and shut those memories out.

"Can you…can you go faster please?" she addressed the driver.

"Miss, with this traffic, I doubt it," the driver said and kept on chewing on his doughnut.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. "God," she whispered brokenly. "Santana, you shouldn't have sent me back here in the first place."

"That's what I told her." She snapped her eyes open to see Sam looking at her with a knowing look. "I knew it would make you nostalgic, and I told her New York really isn't the place for you to rest up. But she said it's your home. You can't hide forever."

She stared at him for the longest minute before nodding. "I guess she's kind of right. I really can't hide forever."

* * *

"Fuck you, Lopez."

Santana chuckled after she said it. "Um…I have a girlfriend for that, Fabray," Santana replied with a hint of teasing in her tone.

"This isn't funny," Quinn hissed. "I thought I told you to take care of my apartment before I left all those years ago."

"And I did. I hired a cleaner and she cleaned your apartment every week. It's good as new," Santana quipped, sitting down in her office and sipping from her coffee cup loudly.

"Don't play stupid with me. You knew what I meant when I asked you to take care of it. You said no problem and you were gonna get rid of her stuff," the blonde seethed, looking around her, eyes meeting Rachel's stuff almost everywhere. "And they are everywhere in my apartment."

"Oh, did I promise that?" Santana questioned, smirking. "Look, Fabray, I went to your apartment and I realized that almost everything belonged to her and if I really get rid of that stuff, your apartment would be as bare as that freaking hospital room you lived in two fucking days ago."

"I don't fucking care, Santana. You asked me to come back here to New York to relax and chill. I can't relax and chill when everything here reminds me of her," Quinn snapped, glaring at Sam who was trying to look like he didn't hear a word of her conversation with Santana.

Santana sighed. "Okay, fine. Get rid of them if you want. I'm not doing that for you, okay? I didn't even know what I was supposed to do with them in the first place. So either get your shit together or keep on hiding, Q," she said, losing the humor.

Quinn looked around her, her mind almost screaming in despair, as every item seemed to have Rachel Berry's face pasted on them. She could remember how they acquired each and every one of these things and she didn't want to remember.

"God, Santana," she whispered, her voice cracked and she sat down on an armchair, which was also chosen by Rachel, though Quinn paid for it. She remembered exactly how they bought this thing and what they did on it when it had been delivered there. "I can't live here."

"Yes, you can," Santana insisted strongly. She waved her hand at her assistant as he came in with a clipboard, and walked out immediately. "You are a strong woman, okay? And you're going to get through this. You've been running for four freaking years, Q. Every time you came back on days off you never went back to New York. Now, you gotta face the music and you have two years to do that."

"I had _four_ years, Santana!" Quinn exclaimed. "Four years and I still couldn't get over it. Now you're saying two years? I'm not some freaking superwoman."

"Well, it's good to know that you're acknowledging the fact that you could have used these four years to do that. But you know what, you didn't. Instead, you chose to use these four years to run. And run you did. You did it spectacularly," Santana said, unamused. "Stop running, Lucy Quinn."

"Don't call me by that name," she gritted.

"See? That's the running. And I'd say you're doing a better job at it than I did when I got outed on freaking TV." Santana tapped her fingers on her desk. "Seriously, get your shit together. If you want to get rid of those things, sure, go ahead. Let Sam help you, even. But I ain't doing your dirty job."

"Okay, fine! Fine!" Quinn said loudly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge nose. "Just so you know, you're a bitch."

"I can't do my job well if I'm not. Anyway, I've got news for you."

"What is it again?" Quinn grumbled.

Santana picked up a file on her desk and bit her lip. "Something I'm eighty per cent sure can help get over yourself and her," she muttered.

"What?"

"A job. While you're on leave, you can work for the Secret Service temporarily and there was a request for a bodyguard yesterday. They want someone from the army. And I thought you would fit the bill."

"Bodyguard? What? Do I look like a vest or something?"

"No, you look like someone from the army and you can get rid of your boredom with a job. Besides, you won't have to think too much about her while working. That way, you're going to gradually forget about her." Santana bit her lip harder and tried not to feel guilty. "You're going to be protecting a celebrity."

"Oh great. That's a bitch I have to deal with. Or son of a bitch. How about no, Santana?" Quinn said, standing up again and storming into the kitchen.

"Come on, Quinn. You get paid _weekly_. You're going to protecting the celebrity until their filming ends. Oh, they got a threatening letter so maybe that's why they have to…you know, get a bodyguard."

Quinn sat at the counter, tapping her fingers on the table. "How much?"

"Twenty-thousand per week."

Quinn raised her brows and whistled. Santana hummed in agreement and waited for response. "Where do I live?"

"They have a pool house. The manager said you can live there."

The blonde considered the offer and looked around her. Her eyes settled on a glass. That freaking glass with the fucking gold star on it. She huffed and rolled her eyes.

"I'm in."

* * *

Santana got off the phone and stared at the file longer before flipping it open, laying eyes on the woman she hadn't seen since her best friend broke up with her. Her stupid grinning face on that photo was really irritating, because while she was taking this photo, Quinn was probably off somewhere in the world defending her country.

She scowled and picked up her phone, dialing a number printed on the paper. It rang a few times before a voice she knew too well answered.

"Yes, this is Kurt Hummel, Rachel Berry's fabulous publicist slash manager slash captain of her glamour team slash her best friend. What can I do for you?" he said in a bright voice. Santana could hear shouting and metals clanking in the background.

"Wow, I'm surprised you managed to snag jobs for Berry with that long ass speech, Gayface. Did you get infected by the Berry syndrome?" Santana quipped, not missing the opportunity to insult somebody.

Kurt sputtered and he cleared his throat a few times. "Wait a minute, I know that voice. Who's that again?" Kurt muttered to himself and Santana rolled her eyes as she sat there waiting impatiently for Kurt to just figure it out. "Oh my god, Satan – I mean, Santana Lopez."

"Yes, sweet Hummel, it's the female version of Satan here," she said with a fake smile on her face. "By the way, I, unfortunately, am the one in charge of your request for a bodyguard for Miss Rachel Man-hands Berry there."

"Oh," Kurt murmured and there was a little rustling before he added, "shit."

She nodded with an evil grin on her face. "Uh-huh, shit is the right word, Porcelain. You know, when I first got the file yesterday, I was really tempted to ignore it and go on with my lovely life here. You know why? Apparently we parted ways when our friends broke up and everyone picked their side. Me, Brittany, Sam, Puck and Joe picked Quinn. The rest of you losers picked Berry, when she was the one who walked out."

"Please don't tell me you really ignored my request, Santana, please," Kurt begged.

"Ah, begging," Santana drawled. "That's a new one. I've never heard Kurt Hummel beg before so that's refreshing. I kind of like it."

"Seriously, Santana. I know we haven't talked in four years, or even communicated in any way, but I really don't think this is the right time for jokes. This is serious matter."

"I know. That's why I've done my job and assigned a bodyguard for your precious fruit over there. And guess who I assigned?"

Kurt racked his brain and his eyes widened when he realized. "Oh no."

Santana laughed dryly. "Oh yes," she said loudly. "Yes, Hummel, I did."

"Wow, I'm surprised you can even call yourself Quinn's friend, Santana," Kurt remarked in a degrading tone.

"Hey, don't even try to pull that on me, okay?" Santana snapped, her humor long gone, replaced by anger. "Your girl left Quinn, not the other way around. And Quinn hasn't recovered from it since. It's been four years and I need her to get over it. So I think it's going to be easier for her to forget if they meet face to face and really talk it out."

"What in your right mind made you think that it's going to resolve just because she got assigned to bodyguard duty?" Kurt yelled. "I mean, this is just ridiculous."

"I'm not done," Santana yelled back, covering his voice. He silenced and her lips twitched in satisfaction to know she still had some power in her. "I also take my job very seriously and I know Quinn is the perfect one for it. Think about it. I don't think anybody other than Quinn is willing to risk everything to save Berry's ass, which I don't think is worth saving considering what she did four years ago."

He considered her explanation and moved his jaw back and forth a few times. "Yeah I guess you could say that."

She hummed and nodded. "And I'm not willing to get my ass kicked just because I was the unfortunate one to get my hands on this case. I can't let anything happened to Tranny there, so I picked the best. She's on leave for two years cause she got busted up in Afghanistan while piloting a plane and she's perfect for this job."

"You forgot to mention one flaw."

"No, it's perfect. They get to talk and figure their shit out. I get my ass saved. Win-win."

"Not a win-win for me. I might get my ass busted by Rachel when she finds out. Screw that. I will get my ass busted when she finds out."

"I don't really care about your hideous white ass, Hummel. I mean win-win for me and Quinn," Santana corrected him. "Now, I don't care what you have to do to tell Berry this but I got a job here that's going to pay me lots of money every month so goodbye. Oh, and please don't call me if there's nothing important."

With that she hung up. She looked at the file again and her lips curled in disgust as her eyes landed on the grinning brunette in the photo. She flipped it closed and huffed.

"I'm sorry, Q," she muttered.

* * *

Quinn slung her carry-on over her shoulder and turned to see Sam leaning against the door panel. He had his hands shoved into his pockets and he was staring at her, biting his lip worriedly. She rolled her eyes and strode towards him, wrapping her arms around him.

He returned her gesture and brushed her back. "You be careful, okay? I don't care if you got the SS training over and done within two freaking weeks; which is crazy by the way, cause I took like, five months to complete it." She snickered and he chuckled, sighing. "But you have to remember you're on leave because your body's not doing well enough. Don't push yourself too hard."

"God, you sound just like my mom, Sam. I'm going to be fine," she said, loosening her arms and leaning back. She bopped his nose and grinned when he scrunched his face. "I'm going to take care of myself. I will call you every night and give you updates. Don't worry. Take care of my apartment for me."

"Of course, of course. I have the whole place to myself. Well, for the next two weeks, anyway. Believe me, I'll trash it and you can't even imagine how," he muttered, looking around him with a grin on his face as if already planning what he was going to do to it. She punched him on the arm and he winced.

She rolled her eyes and walked out her room, grabbing her keys from bowl on the round table next to the door. "Bye, Sam." He waved at her.

She took the elevator to the parking lot in the basement and walked to her car. She whistled when she saw it sitting like brand new in the parking lot. "Thank you, Santana." She opened it and whistled again, as she hadn't been behind the wheel for a long time. "Hope I didn't get rusty," she murmured to herself and ignited the engine. "Yep, this baby is working good."

She keyed in the address she was supposed to go to in her GPS and followed the instructions. Turned out her road rage was still in her because she spent the whole time in the car yelling while driving, giving obscene gestures to drivers she wasn't pleased with. Forty-five minutes later, she reached the suburbs and was stopping in front of a huge gate. There was a guardhouse by the gate. A uniformed man came walking out, munching on a doughnut.

"Your boss will be expecting Quinn Fabray," she said and he nodded, opening gate for her.

She drove forward, thinking that the security measures of this place were mediocre. Look at how easily that guard let her in without even checking up with the people inside.

She couldn't help but gape in awe at the property. A cobbled driveway was lined with trees on both sides, while expanse of fields stretched out beyond them. Ten minutes later, the driveway led to a roundabout with a…music note fountain in the middle.

Wait, what?

The mansion was sitting right in front of her and it was huge. Two marble pillars were supporting the roof and there were two big oak doors at the front of the house with…music notes knockers.

Seriously, was this celebrity obsessed with music notes?

There was a man standing at the top of the steps, and he seemed to be nervous. She squinted to get a better view of him and as she drove nearer, her eyes grew wider. Oh no this couldn't be happening. If…if he's the manager, that only meant one thing.

The sudden and strong urge to flee attacked her, but her rational side was telling her to be professional and not let her heart rule this one. She gasped and slowed her car as the man walked down the steps slowly, biting his lips. She got out and stared at him from over the hood of the car.

"Good to see you again, Quinn," he said cautiously.

Before she could say anything, the oak doors opened and a short woman came out, walking with quick steps. She could remember the sound of those footsteps anywhere. She squeezed her eyes shut, taking in deep breaths. She swore she was going to kill Santana for this.

"Quinn," the woman muttered, sounding surprised.

She opened her eyes and finally looked at the woman. She hadn't seen her in four years. The squeezing of her heart came back but she ignored it.

"Rachel."

* * *

**what do you guys think? anyone into army!Quinn and (as per usual) diva!Rachel? i know i am! review to tell me what you think! i'll come up with the next update as quick as possible!**

**oh yeah, did you guys see the latest Quinn Fabray spoiler? Quinn's dating a professor? WHAT?! and the Quinntana scene isn't pleasant, according to the spoilers anyway. i really don't understand what is wrong with Ryan. he just seems to hate Quinn so much. i feel so bad for my baby right now...**

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	2. Salt to the Wound

**okay first off i _know_ i'm a tad late on updating. so i apologize. there is no excuse for my bad habit of procrastinating and laziness. anyway, this is chapter two.**

**response to reviews**

**RVNola546: thank you for loving my stories. i hope you enjoy this one too :)**

**boldie: let's hope she'll not take this second chance for granted, yeah?**

**valen: well Rachel will _insist _she take the money. (is this spoiler? i hope not.)**

**MCLF: here's "more" :D**

**HappyFaberry: wow you just gave me tons of ideas to extend the story haha thanks!**

**nightcuddler: who doesn't love Faberry?**

**alright, so read, ponder and enjoy.**

* * *

Kurt cursed Santana quietly as he followed Rachel storming around the house before finally making it into her bedroom. He knew this would happen. Fuck Santana for thinking that this would be okay and a 'win-win'. If she called this situation a win-win she should just kill herself. He just managed to get himself into the room before Rachel slammed the door closed.

She swung around and stood akimbo, glaring at him. He knew that glare meant death. He gulped and stared back at her. Her silence was beginning to increase his nervousness and he hated feeling nervous so he cleared his throat and rocked on his heels, waiting for her to say something.

Her breathing was audible as she stalked towards her bathroom and he could hear the tap opening and water flowing out. A few minutes later she came out with a towel drying her face.

"I could fire you right this second," she began quietly. "I could slap you. Trust me; I'm capable of doing all sorts of things to you right now." Her voice shook as she spoke and he knew that she was really angry. She clenched her jaw and looked out the window. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to say right now," she finally said.

He rubbed the back of his neck and swallowed. He himself didn't even know what he was supposed to say so he stayed quiet. He hoped someone would know enough to show Quinn to the pool house because he sure had his hands full right now.

"How long have you kept this from me?" He started when Rachel spoke. She turned around to face him. The anger in her eyes had dissipated, replaced by disappointment and despair. "How long, Kurt?"

He struggled between telling her the truth and lying to her. He decided to go with the former. "Two weeks," he said quietly, not able to look her in the eyes.

He heard her sigh. "I can't believe you right now," she whispered harshly and sat down on her bed. "Two weeks, Kurt. You know how I feel about people hiding things from me, Kurt. You knew and yet you hid such an important detail from me for two freaking weeks. God know what other things you've hidden from me," she muttered and buried her face in her hands.

"I've hidden nothing else, Rach," Kurt exclaimed. "I just…you're not safe, Rachel. You just received a second threatening letter last week. Who knows what'll happen in the future? I knew if I told you that she was going to be the bodyguard, you were going to throw a fit and for a new one. We don't have time for that."

"You're hiding something else," Rachel quipped, staring at him with an eyebrow raised.

He looked up at the ceiling and cursed Rachel's abilities to read him like a stupid mind reader. "Okay, fine. Santana is involved as well." Rachel frowned at him. "You do remember that she works for the government, right?"

Her jaw dropped and she shook her head slowly. "Please don't tell me…"

"Yes, she's the one who assigned Quinn to be your bodyguard," Kurt informed regretfully.

"How can she do this?" she exclaimed. "Is she trying to shove it into my face and tell me that she has moved on while I haven't? Is she taunting me? I know she blames me for walking out. So did Noah, Sam and the others; but why does she have to do this?"

Kurt shrugged and sighed. "I don't know. She just wanted to do her job and she said Quinn fits the bill."

"She doesn't understand how it feels to not trust your partner anymore. Especially when she made such a life changing decision without consulting me first," Rachel murmured, running her hands through her hair and pacing around the room. "I want her out. I don't want her here. I want another bodyguard."

"No, Rachel. Quinn can help you. She's here to ensure your safety and nothing else. You two can choose not to talk to each other. You can just pay her twenty thousand per week and let her make sure you're safe. At least until filming ends."

"_Stop_ saying her name, Kurt!" Rachel finally yelled, stopping him mid-sentence. "I have enough in my head and I don't want to hear her name right now."

"Okay," he squeaked.

She breathed harshly and stared at him in despair. She swallowed and finally let her defense down. Tears began flowing out of her eyes and she sat back down on her bed. "God, Kurt," she choked.

Kurt released a shuddering breath before moving forward and taking Rachel in his arms. "I'm sorry, Rachel. But it's for your own good," he whispered, stroking her hair as she cried into his chest. "Everything's going to be fine."

* * *

"I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You," she gritted through her clenched jaw into the speaker of her cell phone. She was following a girl she assumed worked for Rachel down to the pool house. She didn't even care that the girl flinched at her words. "You set me up," she snapped.

"I didn't set you up," Santana insisted. "I was doing my freaking job, which includes assigning the best bodyguards to bitches."

Quinn worked her teeth and she took a deep breath. "Yep, you were doing your freaking job. Don't fucking lie to me, Santana. There are people better than I am. I'm not the best you have. So why assign me to her? Rachel Berry, the woman who walked out on me and the woman I let down because I betrayed her trust. What, is this your way of helping me get over her? It ain't fucking helping."

"I assigned you to Rachel freaking Berry because you are indeed the best. For her. I'll admit I was a little selfish –" Quinn scoffed "– because I know only you would risk your life and do anything to have her safe and sound. I don't want my ass kicked if things go wrong and I want you to get over her."

"This isn't helping, Santana!"

"Yes it is! Or at least it will! You need to sort your shit out. Talk to her! Ask her why she walked out! Just figure it the fuck out! I'm tired of watching you fake smiling and fake laughing all the time. I'm tired of watching you pretending to be happy when I know you still keep that fucking photo in your wallet."

Quinn nodded stiffly to the girl once they reached the pool house and she mouthed 'thank you' at her before heading inside. She didn't bother to look around her and just tossed her carry-on on the couch and walked out to the pool.

"You just threw me out here assuming I wouldn't quit and run," she bit out. "What kind of person are you?"

"A selfish one," Santana replied truthfully. "But also one who cares about you." Quinn scoffed. "Look, RuPaul –"

"Don't call her that."

"Shut up," Santana snapped. "Berry may be in danger right now. We don't even know. She got another threatening letter last week. Are you going to tell me you won't put yourself back into that phase where you shut yourself away from us and not talk to us if she ever got harmed?"

"Stop pretending you know me, Santana," Quinn said quietly, closing her eyes, knowing full well that Santana _did_ know her. She knew her very well.

"Oh but I do. I know you, Q., and I'm offering you a chance to redeem yourself right now. Because even if Berry's the one who walked out, you were the one who betrayed her trust first." Santana sighed then said quietly, "If you still love her, Q Fab, do everything you can to protect her. Regain her trust and maybe – God knows how much I don't want that to happen – you can rebuild a relationship with her."

Quinn sat down at the edge of the pool and watched the water ripple as she considered Santana's words. She did love Rachel. So much that it physically hurt. And Santana was right – again – when she assumed that Quinn would definitely not be okay if anything happened to Rachel. But most importantly, she _loved_ Rachel. She scoffed and looked up at the sky with a humorless grin.

"Fuck you, Lopez," she croaked. This time, the words lacked malice. This was her way of telling Santana that she was right."

Santana chuckled. "You wish."

"Do you trust her?"

Rachel looked up from her phone and at Kurt. "What?"

"Do you trust her enough to let her be your protector?" he elaborated. "You need to trust a bodyguard immensely and she's going to be keeping you from harm in any way. So before we truly hire her, I need to know if you trust her enough to put your life in her hands."

She contemplated his words and bit her bottom lip. She wanted to say no so badly. Truth be told, she had been trusting Quinn with all her heart ever since they went on their first date; despite how Quinn breached her trust by enlisting without asking her or even telling her prior. She smiled sadly, thinking that she was so pathetic.

"I do," she whispered. She let out a dry chuckle and buried her face into her hands, her phone long forgotten. "I trust her. There's not even a doubt about it. God I'm so pathetic," she breathed.

Kurt smiled and raised his brows, nodding silently in agreement. "You are kind of pathetic," he commented. She lifted her head from her hands and shot him a dirty look. He shrugged. "You trust a woman, who betrayed your trust four years ago, with your life. I think that explains enough."

Rachel's lips twitched. "Do you ever feel like you can immediately see your future flashing in front of you with a person you just met?" Rachel asked. He raised his brow at her insight. "Like…you know that person could be the One for you." She narrowed her eyes at her own words. "Does that make sense?"

"Actually, yes," he said with a smile. "Remember a certain bow tie fanatic?"

She laughed and nodded. "Yes, I do indeed. He's a keeper."

"Oh I know," he replied with a grin. "Why the sudden insight, darling?"

She stared into the space, engulfed in silence for the next few minutes before she answered, "Because that was how I felt when I first met Quinn. I remember when I ran into her outside the Starbucks nearby NYADA. I remember thinking nothing but 'Wow' when I saw her face." She blinked twice and laughed. "I remember the sandals she was wearing cause Santana stole her sneakers, which I still think is ridiculous. I remember thinking I'd never get a chance with her. But what I remember the most was how her eyes twinkled and just…drew me in."

"That was love at first sight, wasn't it?" Kurt queried.

She looked at him and nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I think it was," she whispered. "That's why I trust her. Maybe love isn't enough sometimes. But…I think it's enough reason for me to trust her."

"Let's just hope she won't betray your trust again, eh?" He stared at her skeptically.

She nodded. "Let's just hope she won't."

Quinn decided that she wouldn't be going to the mansion for dinner that night. She needed time to clear her head. So when Kurt came and invited her to the mansion – with something that resembled distaste in his eyes – she refused and gave him a look so he would know to leave her alone. When he walked away, she smiled smugly, glad to know that she still had some HBIC in her.

Her smile was wiped off the moment she saw Rachel standing on the threshold, waiting for Kurt. She was staring at her; as if she could stare right into Quinn's soul. Quinn shuddered and returned the stare, refusing to look away. Her eyes roved over Rachel and the edge of her lips curved upwards in a reluctant smile as she realized how much Rachel had grown.

Her curves were more pronounced now and Quinn licked her lips, remembering the days when _her _hands used to touch the skin underneath the loose sweater and short pants. Quinn released a shuddering breath and her eyes moved upwards, meeting Rachel's eyes.

What she saw took her breath away. She didn't realize how freaking much she'd missed the brunette until their eyes met and it was like the first time they met. The familiarity. The electric tension. It was zapping all over her again just like it had four years ago.

"Oh my god," she whispered brokenly, tears welling up in her eyes.

Rachel's eyes were tearful as well and she smiled sadly at Quinn. "I missed you," she mouthed before heading into the mansion with Kurt.

Quinn collapsed onto the couch and buried her head into her hands, breathing harshly. She gave up trying to rein in her tears and just let it all out. She let her frustration, disappointment and desperation all out. She sobbed into her hands, tasting the salt of her own tears and choked on her own laugh.

How ironic. Like adding salt to her wounds.

* * *

She woke up with a pounding headache and she jumped upright when she found that she wasn't in her room in New York City. Her days in the army had trained her to be extra alert and to not take any chances. Habits were hard to break. Her anxiety ebbed away when she remembered that she was now working for Rachel.

She heaved a sigh and slid out of bed, heading to the kitchen to make herself some decent coffee and just get the day rolling. Quinn didn't bother putting sugar and just drank the coffee straight away. Scalding hot and bitter, just like how her days were going to be now.

Quinn finally took the time to examine the pool house and found that in spite of it being vacant for God knows how long, it was clean and well furnished. There was a flat screen television in the living room, with a glass coffee table. One cream-colored armchair sat sideways, facing the television while three coffee-colored couches sat around the coffee table.

She went back into the bedroom and opened the other door, which led to a bathroom. Her eyes widened at the big round tub in the middle of the bathroom and the walk-in shower taking up a good portion of the room. She walked out quickly and made her way to the other side of the living room. Her hand twisted the knob and there was a mini gym there. Equipment was set up and all ready to use and she couldn't help but whistle.

Looks like Rachel managed to make a lot of money with her career, Quinn thought and smiled. Good for her.

When she was finished with the coffee, she washed the cup in the sink and put it back to its rightful place before heading into the bathroom. She decided to use the walk-in shower instead of the tub. She didn't really want to break anything. A chuckle escaped her lips when she saw the music notes on the tiled wall.

_Typical_, she thought and turned on the heater, proceeding to take her much-needed shower.

* * *

Rachel woke up at six in the morning, as per usual. Her routine had not really changed. She went downstairs to the gym for her morning workout, which took an hour. Then she took a hot bath in her comfortable bathtub while reading Nicholas Sparks. At half past seven, she got out of the tub and dressed. She went back downstairs to see her house bustling with people and sighed, heading to the kitchen. Her caramel latte was ready on the counter with her daily oatmeal. She began to eat her breakfast while catching up with the newspaper.

All these she did without thinking about Quinn. Well, as hard as she tried to not think about her; until said woman walked in the back door, pausing as she saw Rachel. Rachel's spoon was left in the bowl as their eyes locked on each other. Rachel gulped and grabbed her coffee and took a drink. Quinn stood there, stiff and not knowing what to do until Kurt came in.

"Good morning," he greeted, effectively breaking the awkwardness. "So, Quinn, it's nice to have you here. I didn't exactly…give you a very warm welcome yesterday. So welcome, Quinn!"

She shook herself mentally and smiled at him. "Yeah, thanks," she muttered and glanced at Rachel again before looking back at Kurt. "Do you have a security team or something like that?"

"As a matter of fact, we do," Rachel decided to answer, looking at Quinn. Quinn's eyes snapped to Rachel and saw nothing but challenge and…love.

Quinn shook herself mentally again. She must've interpreted the emotion behind Rachel's eyes wrong and darted her gaze away.

"Tell them they're not doing a very good job," she remarked. "Also, I'd like to meet all of them later. Just reach me on my cell when they're here." Then she walked out to the foyer to continue her patrol and check on the security measures they had taken so far. From what she had seen, they were not very up to par.

"I need to remind you that I'm your employer, Quinn." Quinn stopped at Rachel's strong tone. "At least show me some respect."

She couldn't help but smile. After four years, Rachel's freaking pride was still big as ever. She turned around, crossing her arms over her chest, not wiping that smile away and raised an eyebrow at the brunette.

"You employed me to be your bodyguard," Quinn began. "I'm just doing my job here. Your security team is not doing a good job _securing_ you. Really, I can list out all of the things that I find completely at fault but I don't think you'd want to know."

"That doesn't explain your disrespect towards me, _Quinn_," Rachel emphasized.

She clinched her jaw and shifted her weight to one foot. "Miss Berry, all due _respect_, the security measures you've taken are by far the worst I've ever seen. God knows how many more mistakes I'll find later. One second wasted talking to you is one second exposing you to more danger. If your pride is more important than your safety right now, I guess you should just fire me and your security team and just let yourself be killed sooner or later."

Their eyes locked in silent battle. Admiration and defiance surged throughout their senses but they didn't let any show in their eyes. They couldn't. Their stubbornness wouldn't allow them to. Kurt could practically feel electricity in the air and diffused the tension quickly as he jumped between them, breaking their eye contact.

"Okay!" he squealed breathlessly and looked between them nervously. "Rachel, I have to talk to you about your show tonight and Quinn, please go on with your inspection of the house. I will surely call you as soon as the security team is here, which shouldn't be long."

Quinn nodded curtly and walked away.

Rachel huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Kurt. "Why did you do that?"

"What happened to yesterday? You practically yelled at her telling you missed her and now both of you are like dinosaurs fighting for a piece of meat," Kurt said, staring at her with wide eyes. "And don't tell me it's all about your self dignity, Rachel. That was nothing about dignity."

"You're wrong, Kurt. I pay her every freaking week so I have a right to ask for respect." Rachel abandoned her breakfast and stormed up the stairs. "Also, Kurt, I _do not _have a show tonight. I have a movie to film."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, I just said that to break both of you apart. And no, you have a day off today," Kurt informed, following her upstairs.

She scoffed and stalked into her study, sitting behind the desk and turning on her computer. "I really can't believe you sometimes."

"I think I should be the one saying that."

"No you don't," she snapped, glaring at him. "Now go away. I have Tetris to defeat."

He rolled his eyes and walked out, muttering, "What is it with you and that game?"

* * *

She had compiled and written every loophole she had found in the mansion and handed the list to the head of the security team, Azimio Adams. The black guy took it – more like snatched it – from her and read it, scowling hideously as he reached the end of the list. He glared at her and smacked it on the table, startling everyone but her.

"Are you kidding me?" he bellowed, spitting all over her face.

She calmly reached for her handkerchief in her back pocket and wiped her face clean. Then she calmly met his eyes and enunciated, "No."

He crumpled the paper and waved it in front of her. "This is literally everything in the house!" he bellowed again. She nodded. "Are you trying to undermine me, Fabray?"

"No," she said again. "This house has loopholes _everywhere_, Adams. I don't have time to undermine you. Your team is not doing a good job and I'm just pointing it out." She looked around her in the kitchen, addressing everyone. "I get paid twenty thousand every week so I'm not going to sweet talk my way into your pathetic team and get you to like me. Either you fix this or I'll make sure by the end of the week you and your team will be replaced entirely by _my_ people."

Azimio narrowed his eyes at her and glared at the now creased paper again, then back at her. She didn't cower away when his fierce eyes met hers. He exhaled harshly, his stench permeating her nose.

"I'll submit the list to Hummel and have these all done and fixed as fast as we can," he finally said.

She nodded and let a tiny smile tugged on her lips. Her eyes wandered the room and landed on a brunette who had a hint of respect in his eyes. She looked away and back to the black guy in front of her.

"Your team sucks," she repeated. His anger seemed to have risen again and she chuckled. "Be angry all you want but I'm going to repeat this again. Your. Team. _Sucks_," she enunciated each word. "You guys come to work without a schedule and that is unacceptable. The guards you assign to the guardhouse can't even _guard_." She relayed what happened yesterday to Azimio and he seemed to have a little regret afterwards. "Also, there's no one on patrol at all. From today onwards, I want at least two people on patrol. One in the house and one outside. No exceptions."

"Just because you came out from the army doesn't mean you get a say in everything, Fabray," Azimio growled dangerously. "Also, I heard you were discharged temporarily because you were injured. Apparently you weren't doing a very good job either."

She stiffened and was prepared to retort before a familiar voice broke in. "Quinn gets a say in every one of my security issues from now on, Azimio." Their heads snapped to Rachel who was standing at the doorway glowering at Azimio. "She's the captain of the team now."

"Miss Berry –"

"Azimio," Rachel snapped and raised her brow at him. He closed his mouth and huffed. "Do you think I would need to hire a special bodyguard from the army if you were doing a good job?" she questioned and he looked guilty. "Now go and do everything that needs to be done."

The team all walked out of the kitchen and Azimio was _shouting _orders at his teammates angrily, leaving Quinn and Rachel alone in the kitchen. Quinn looked down at her feet, her strong façade fading away and when she realized it, she quickly replaced her fragile expression with a poker face, looking up at Rachel. She nodded at Rachel with gratitude and was prepared to walk out before the brunette stopped her.

Quinn paused in her steps and turned to face Rachel who was looking at her pleadingly. She gulped and dared herself to meet Rachel's eyes, but she couldn't. All the years in the field firing her rifle still didn't give her the courage to face the woman she had disappointed four years ago.

A layer of silence engulfed them and they stood there, facing each other yet not really _facing_ each other.

"Thank you for doing this," Rachel said softly.

Quinn looked up in surprise and was even more surprised when she saw gratitude and love – again – in Rachel's eyes. She nodded before walking out the back door to the pool house.

* * *

Quinn stomped into the pool house, holding the tears in and slammed the door behind her before throwing herself onto the couch. She covered her forehead with her forearm and took a shuddering breath and held it. When she finally had to release it, she was pretty sure that the feeling of not breathing couldn't even compare to what she felt every time she saw Rachel and she just had to do these things to her.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she quickly dug it out, not even bothering to glance at the caller ID and answered it. "What?"

"Wow, someone who didn't keep her promise is in a really bad mood," Sam's voice floated into her ear and she opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling. "You did promise you'd call me every day, Quinn. And it's five in the evening now and you still haven't."

"That meant I have seven more hours until tomorrow. Aren't you just needy, Evans?" Quinn teased and smiled softly. "I hope you haven't destroyed my apartment."

Sam chuckled. "Yes, I am a needy baby who needs his blonde mommy to feed him," he mimicked a baby's voice and she laughed. "And no, I haven't destroyed your apartment. Not yet, anyway," he added.

"Don't you dare do anything to my apartment, Sam Evans," she warned.

She could practically hear him shrug on the other end of the line. "Yeah I'll try," he teased. "Anyway, how's the job going? Is it fun? Who's the celebrity? Is it a he or she? If it's a she is she hot?" he fired his questions without stopping.

Reminded of her current job, her humor dissipated, replaced by agony and she just _wanted_ to leave the house right this second. But she knew she couldn't. She slapped herself mentally for being so freaking weak. She scolded herself for still being so fucking in love with the boss of the mansion.

"Quinn?" Sam's voice snapped her back to reality and she silently thanked him for that. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded even though she knew he couldn't see her right now. "Yeah, everything's fine." She stared into the space for a couple of seconds before adding, "I guess."

"What do you mean, 'you guess'?" Sam asked, alarmed.

"To answer your questions," she said loudly, "the job sucks because my employer has the worst security system I have ever seen in my life. And that's saying something after my short trip to Iran last year. I had to give the captain of the security team a list of things to fix and he kept bitching because he's jealous."

"Quinn –" Sam said, trying to steer them back to his intended discussion but she cut him off again.

"So it's not fun," she said loudly, coveting his voice. "The celebrity is a she," she informed Sam and took a deep breath, chuckling dryly at herself for what she was about to say. "And she's definitely hot." Her voice cracked and it was like a light bulb went off in his head.

"Oh shit she didn't," he muttered.

"Oh yes Lopez did," Quinn said with a humorless laugh. "She fucking did," she whispered.

Sam was taking deep breaths, as if calming himself and she knew he was on the verge of calling Santana and giving her a piece of his mind, which she was sure he was going to do after they hung up.

"Santana didn't really give me a heads up about the person I was going to be guarding until I came here and saw Hummel at the front door. And then she came up and it felt like the world was finally crashing down on me," Quinn rambled. "Then she had to fucking say she missed me. And then this morning she just had to uphold her fucking dignity and ask for my fucking respect. Hours later she just had to stand up for me with Azimio Adams and thanked me. But you know what, Sam? After everything, I still…I still love her like fuck and she was like a freaking goddess standing there in front of me."

"Okay, Quinn, you need to calm down," he soothed. She choked on her own air and coughed. "Why don't you just leave and let another person take the job?"

Quinn stared up at the ceiling as if she could find the answer there. But inside, she knew she wouldn't have to find it. She already knew the answer. "She's Rachel Berry." Her eyes wandered from the chandelier to the patterns on the ceiling and released a sigh. "She's Rachel Berry," she repeated.

Sam echoed her sigh. "You're doing a really bang up job of helping yourself there, Quinn," he muttered.

She released a dry laugh. "I know right?"

"So you plan to just…stand there and watch over her like a German shepherd?" he asked.

"I think I'm more like a mix between a Labrador and Rottweiler," she said with a grin. "You know, I still want to follow her around and let her pet me like a goddamn Labrador. On the other hand, I'm willing to kill just to protect her."

He laughed loudly and hummed in agreement. "Yeah, that sounds about right." A moment of silence passed between them before he asked, "So I'm guessing there's no chance for me to ask you out for a drink since you're so busy protecting her."

"Why? You want to ask me out on a date?" she joked.

"I tried that five years ago. You shot me down and told me you don't play on my team," deadpanned Sam. "I just wanted to hang out with you. You know, you came back for like one month and then you were off protecting your ex-girlfriend – whom you haven't gotten over. I missed you. We all did."

She smiled and silently thanked her friends for being there with her no matter how. "I missed you guys too. Tell you what? When Santana and Brittany come to New York next week, you can come here and we'll have fun in this awesome pool house. I'm pretty sure Kurt won't disagree."

"Will she agree?" he queried quietly.

She stayed silent for a moment as her mind tried to find the right words. Actually, she didn't even know what she was supposed to say. Then she sighed. "I'll ask her about it tomorrow," she answered.

"You sound tired, Quinn."

"Yeah well I've been thinking _a lot_ since I first laid eyes on her yesterday, so yes, I _am_ tired," she explained and ran her hand over her face. "I can't sleep though. My case of insomnia ain't going away."

"I'll leave you to your rest. Just call me tomorrow, okay?" Sam reminded, his voice filled with concern.

"I will, Sam. Thanks."

"What for?"

She hummed and smiled. "Just thanks for being there for me all this time."

He chuckled. "Anytime, Q Fab. Rest well. Good night."

"Good night."

She hung up and threw her phone on the coffee table before leaning back again, laying her forearm over her forehead and sighed in exhaustion. She'd been through a lot in these couple of days. And Sam was right. She was just _exhausted_ to the point that she could be out on the street and she could still fall asleep. If it wasn't for this damn insomnia, she swore she'd be asleep right now.

Or if Rachel was in her arms. An image of Rachel flashed through her mind and she grunted, squeezing her eyes shut.

"You'll be the death of me, Rachel Berry."

* * *

**what do you think? review to tell me! thank you for your response to the fic by the way, i feel so loved! anyway, i will do my best to have chapter three written within the week but no promises. **

**OBAMA WON! i might not be an American but congrats, y'all Americans! **

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	3. More to It

**i gather Chapter 2 didn't do too well, judging by the number of reviews - or the lack thereof. i'm hoping this one will not disappoint you guys :)**

**response to reviews**

**MCLF: thank you :)**

**boldie: why don't you like Noah though? i think he's interesting. but no, he _might_ not appear for the next couple of chapter. i can't promise anything though. i hope you'll still enjoy this. :)**

**valen: yes, Quinn is distancing herself from Rachel. she has a serious guard issue and ever since Rachel left, she's been keeping to herself so this was just her guarding herself a little too much. don't worry. more to come :)**

**Ad3n: haha the yelling match won't come any sooner. sorry. :P**

**anyway, i'll let you guys read, ponder and enjoy.**

* * *

She received a laminated schedule from Kurt after dinner, which she hadn't joined again. She actually thought he was going to leave and was pushing the door closed when he put his hand on it, stopping her. She looked up from the schedule and at him. He was staring at her somberly and she swallowed.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked.

She took a deep breath and stepped back, gesturing for him to come inside. It's not like she could say no per se. "Go ahead," she muttered and sat down on the armchair, taking the glass of wine from the coffee table she poured herself earlier and drank it.

"I know you're angry with Santana or m–"

"I'm not angry with anyone," she interjected, eyeing him warningly. He stared at her skeptically. "I'm not angry with anyone," she reiterated. He nodded but still had a bit of disbelief in his eyes. She sighed and put down her glass. "Okay, I'll admit I'm not pleased with our current arrangements. I'd rather chuck myself out of a car than stay here, to be honest."

He nodded in understanding and crossed his arms. "Fine. You're unhappy. I understand. But let me ask you something; have you ever been happy in the last four years?" he questioned. He mentally patted himself on the back for having the bravery to ask her the question.

She frowned at him. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said calmly.

He raised a brow. "Really? You don't know what I'm talking about? Do you really want me to give all the painful details to you so you'll know what I'm talking about?" She arched her own brow and he sighed, knowing he could never raise his brow the Fabray way. "Four years ago, when Rachel walked out the door of your comfy little apartment, which I know for sure you're still living in, have you been genuinely happy?"

And there it went; another knife plunged into her already scarred heart and twisting painfully. "I don't think I'm obligated to answer your question, Kurt."

"No, of course you aren't," he said quickly and smirked. "Since you're such an expert at running away from your problems, I didn't really expect you to answer my question."

"What do you want, Kurt?" Quinn snapped, slamming her hand on the coffee table and jumping to her feet. He flinched at her tone and she glared at him, panting. "What do you want from me? You want me to apologize to her for enlisting without asking her? You want me to beg her for forgiveness? You want me to hug you and laugh with you like nothing happened?"

"I want you to stop running," he intercepted, looking at her pointedly. She closed her mouth and ran her hand through her hair. "I believe Santana wanted the same thing from you, didn't she?" She stayed quiet. "Yeah, I thought so. I want the same thing from you too – and Rachel, to be honest."

Her eyes snapped from her slippers to him. "What?"

He laughed dryly. "Believe it or not, she's been running as well. She avoided absolutely anything about you and literally anything about the country's military matters. She would watch the news, and whenever there was something about explosions in Iraq or death in Afghanistan, she'd turn the TV off and turn on her computer to play Tetris. To be honest, you both have astounding skills in running and avoiding."

"That doesn't mean anything," she commented, her tone emotionless.

"You weren't here, Quinn!" he exclaimed. "You didn't see her!"

"So what now? You're telling me that she still loves me?" she yelled.

"Yes!" he yelled back. She stopped and her eyes widened a little. His features softened and he calmed his beating heart. "Yes," he said calmly. "I'm telling you she still loves you."

They stood there staring at each other. She had a shocked expression on her face for approximately three minutes before she burst out laughing. She laughed and laughed and laughed and he had absolutely no idea what she was laughing about. He stood there wide-eyed, watching her laugh while considering calling the asylum.

When she sobered, she finally met his gaze and there was no mistaking the pain and torment swimming in her hazel green eyes as she said, "Kurt, I'm really tired. Seriously, I am so tired I could literally sleep for three days straight if my body would allow me to. And you standing there talking such bullshit really isn't helping."

"I'm not lying, Quinn!" he cried out.

"Yes, you are!" He stepped back at her tone. Her face was now void of humor, instead her features were filled with frustration and despair. "She stopped loving me the minute she decided to walk out the door, Kurt. And I didn't – I still don't – blame her, for your information. Why would she love someone who practically lied to her?"

He stared at her wide-eyed and his jaw dropped. He didn't know how to respond to her outburst. She whimpered and rubbed her face with her hand, blowing out a puff of air before swallowing. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, not even caring that he was messing it up.

"You betrayed her trust, Quinn," he said quietly. She frowned at him. "You joined the army and you didn't even say anything to her. It's not her fa –"

He was interrupted by her dry chuckle and she flopped back down on her previously occupied armchair. He stared at her in confusion. "She didn't tell you the whole story, did she?" she breathed. She couldn't even find the energy to yell or shout anymore. His frown deepened. "She didn't leave just because I didn't tell her I was enlisting. She left because of that and also to 'chase her dreams.'" She air quoted.

She turned her head to see his eyes wider than ever and his mouth gaping. She swallowed and looked back up the ceiling, her mind going back down memory lane.

* * *

_Quinn unlocked the door and braced herself. She knew Rachel was angry and she didn't blame her for it. So she bought a bouquet of lilies – Rachel's favorite flowers – and intended to make up for it. Although she knew it just wouldn't be enough, she was going to try her best. _

_When she walked in, she saw Rachel and a smile immediately lit up her face but it faltered when she saw the suitcase sitting grimly behind Rachel. Rachel was expressionless as well as she watched the smile on Quinn's face slowly faded away._

"_Rachel?" Quinn breathed._

_The brunette winced and she swallowed. "I'm leaving," she whispered. Quinn's eyes filled with agony and Rachel darted her gaze away, staring at Quinn's forehead instead. She found it easier than staring into Quinn's eyes and watching the emotions flit past._

_Quinn's arms fall limply to her sides, the bouquet dropped to the floor. She didn't know what to say. She didn't even know she had angered Rachel to this extent. "Rachel, please," she begged softly, taking a step forward. Rachel took a step back, shaking her head. "Rachel, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you so angry. Please, Rachel, don't leave."_

_The brunette took a deep breath before meeting Quinn's eyes. "I can't do this, Quinn," she said, her voice shuddered. "I can't sit here and feel so far away from you when you're away in Iran or Israel or Afghanistan. I __**can't**__." She sniffled. "Also, I got a job offer. In Los Angeles. It's not big or anything but it's something. I need to take this opportunity."_

_The blonde listened to Rachel and her knees nearly buckled. She staggered back and ran her hand through her hair. "Rachel, I love you," she whispered. So there was a job offer. She didn't know a job offer was more important than her. She gulped. "Please, Rach, don't leave me. I…I have four months until I leave. Can't we spend the last four months together and enjoy it?"_

_Rachel shook her head. "I'm sorry, Quinn, but it's too hard and…this is a once in a lifetime opportunity." She gripped the handle of her suitcase and began dragging it behind her. She was stopped when Quinn grabbed her wrist as they stood side by side._

"_Quinn," she whispered brokenly. "Let me go."_

_Quinn's grip tightened and Rachel could literally feel her shake just by her grip. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and breathed harshly before yanking her hand out of Quinn's grip._

"_I'm sorry," she whispered before she walked out the door._

Rachel lay on the bed, holding a simple silver ring, which wasn't worth anything, above her as the light filtered through it. She rolled it between her fingers and her heart clenched as she saw the words carved on the inside.

_Q & R. Forever and ever. _

It was a promise ring Quinn gave her six months after they made it official. They'd known that they were each other's forever and they weren't afraid to admit it. Quinn claimed that the ring was a symbol of their love. Rachel couldn't part with it even after she had broken up with Quinn. It was the only thing she had left of their used-to-be forever after.

She closed her eyes when she remembered how heartbroken Quinn had seemed when she left; how her eyes lost their light as soon as she stated her reasons for leaving; how painful it must have been for Quinn when she pulled her wrist from Quinn's grip.

She remembered staying at Kurt's that night, crying herself to sleep. She told Kurt everything, but she didn't dare to tell him the other reason of her leaving. She somehow knew that if she told him, there was a huge possibility of her losing her best friend. Kurt would obviously think she was selfish.

But it had been a rare opportunity; and she had risen to her fame because she took the opportunity. When she became famous enough to the point where she had to hire a manager and a security team and build a house, she only then realized that this was no longer everything she wanted.

It was nothing if Quinn wasn't there with her.

* * *

"It really doesn't surprise me that she didn't tell you her other reason for leaving," Quinn said, opening her eyes after recalling the fateful event that brought her to where she was today; alone and at a loss. "I didn't tell Sam, Puck or even Santana about it either."

Kurt swallowed and whispered, "Wow, I didn't know that."

Quinn lifted her palm and stared at her callused hand under the glaring light. "As much as I am at fault for this, I think I have the right to be a little angry at her for leaving," she finally commented, standing up on her feet. She looked at Kurt tiredly and said, "I really am very tired now, Kurt. Can you please leave me alone?"

Kurt nodded and headed towards the door. "I am so sorry, Quinn," he finally whispered before walking out, closing the door behind her.

She smiled sadly. It was the smallest of small smiles he'd ever seen in his life. "Yeah, me too."

* * *

Rachel woke up a little later than expected and quickly got dressed in a yellow tank top and grey sweatpants before making her way to the gym. She was surprised to see Blaine already there running on the treadmill.

"Hey, Blaine. I didn't know you were here," she greeted, settling her water bottle and iPod on a bench before proceeding to stretch.

He grinned and turned the treadmill off before approaching her, wiping his face with his towel. "You were already asleep last night when I got here after rehearsals. I spent the night here last night. I hope you don't mind," he said as he panted and sat down on the bench, watching her stretch.

"No, no, of course not," she quickly said, shaking her head. "I'm just surprised you managed to get in through the guard outside since the security measures are getting tighter than ever."

"Oh, I got in a little trouble with that, but Kurt settled it out. He wrote my name on the approved visitors list, something I don't even know you had until now," he added. She laughed a little. "Looks like the bodyguard you hired did a good job in securing you."

Her smile dimmed at the mention of Quinn and simply nodded. Blaine, who seemed to have caught up and realized what he said, cleared his throat awkwardly and stood up, pointing to one of the workout machines before heading towards it.

Rachel finished stretching and headed towards the treadmill. She plugged in her iPod and put in her headphones before she began running. As she ran, her mind wandered off to Quinn again.

She had to get Quinn back. She had come to this decision last night before she drifted off to sleep. Before Quinn made her appearance two days ago, she had thought it was a lost cause and she was determined to live a single life; drifting from one night stand to another. She had already come to that conclusion before Quinn came back.

Of course, she only had a limited time, because after all this Quinn was going to leave and Rachel wouldn't know when or if she'd see her again. Her head literally ached from that thought and she shook her head to shake that thought away. She wouldn't think of that. She couldn't think of that.

Her hand moved towards the speed button and pressed the up button, increasing the speed. Sweat was beginning to ooze out of her pores and she started panting. Still, her mind couldn't stop going back to Quinn. Her lips twitched as an image of Quinn in the leather jacket, white button down shirt beneath and the skin tight jeans she wore last night came into her mind.

It was amazing how Quinn could still be so sexy without being aware of it after four years. Of course, the scar that ran across her brow didn't do anything to lessen the sexiness. Instead, it kind of made her sexier than ever.

Her face went back to one of determination as she thought; _I have to get her back. And I'm not going to fail._

* * *

Two days later, at six in the evening, Quinn stood near the garage and looked over the looming mansion. There were twelve security cameras installed all around the perimeter and a secret one installed at the guardhouse so she could keep an eye on the guard and the visitors. Inside the mansion, there was one installed in every room and four in each corridor.

That mansion had God knows how many corridors in it and she could never understand why one would need so many corridors in a mansion.

Rachel hadn't left the mansion in the past two days because Artie, her film's director, had given her three days off. She would have to go back on set tomorrow. Quinn had done her best to not get in the brunette's way or even get in her line of vision.

However, this was her house. So she'd have to see Rachel once in awhile. When she did, she only nodded in greeting before quickly slipping out of whatever room she was in before Rachel could say anything.

The morning after she blurted the secrets she had locked up in her heart to Kurt, she had realized her huge mistake and went out of her way to avoid the man. On that same morning she ran into Blaine Anderson, whose billboard she saw when she was heading back to her apartment the first day she came back to New York.

Blaine was sitting in the lounge reading the morning newspaper when Quinn saw him. He faltered when he saw her – God knows why. Quinn had a moment of panic because she had no idea that he was among the approved visitors' list. She was interrogating him with extremely uncomfortable questions until Kurt came into the room and explained everything. They were dating and Rachel had said Blaine was allowed into the mansion anytime.

She had nodded and eyed Blaine warily one last time before wandering off to do her morning patrol. Luckily for her, she'd not seen Rachel anywhere she went that day, which was a huge relief because she certainly couldn't handle seeing her after last night.

Azimio, as always, had been an asshole to her for the past two days. He wouldn't stop contradicting her and she just kept giving him reasonable explanations for the things she demanded to be applied to the mansion's security system.

She'd met each one of the members in the security team, as well as the big quiet driver, Karofsky. He was big and really quiet. Kurt had informed her he was gay as well and he had a huge crush on Kurt. Quinn had nearly snorted because why would he, of all people, crush on Kurt Hummel? But really, that wasn't her problem so she'd shrugged it off.

"Quinn!"

She was snapped out of her reverie when she heard her name called. She turned in the direction of the voice and nearly grunted and ran when she saw Rachel running toward her. Rachel stopped a few yards away from her and panted. Quinn gulped audibly as she watched Rachel's chest rise and fall as she panted. Her eyes quickly snapped up to Rachel's and she cleared her throat when she saw the flush on Rachel's skin.

"What, Miss Berry?" she addressed. She refused to address Rachel by her given name because that was unprofessional; and she had to be professional or she'll lose it. She ignored the disappointed look that flashed across Rachel's features and folded her arms across her chest.

"I just wanted to talk to you," Rachel said quietly.

Quinn's face nearly softened but she held strong. She kept up her poker face and nodded. "What do you want to talk about?"

Rachel shuffled her feet and looked down at them, her hands behind her back. "I just…" she stammered and looked back up at Quinn, taking her breath away again with her soulful brown eyes. "How have you been doing?"

Quinn nearly staggered in disbelief. Did Rachel just want to have small talk with her? She sighed and shook her head slightly. "I've been in the army," she said simply. "So I guess you can say I've been doing well considering I'm still alive." Then luckily for her, and unluckily for Karofsky, he passed by and she grabbed his elbow. "Excuse me, Miss Berry, but I have to teach Karofsky how to drive right now," she said with a sweet smile before proceeding to walk away with a confused Karofsky.

Rachel stared wide-eyed and stammered, "Q-Quinn."

Quinn stopped and turned to her, her hand still gripping Karofsky's elbow. "Yes?"

Rachel opened her mouth to say something before a tall man with a cute dopey face sidled up to her. "Rachel?" he called softly, his hand wrapped around the brunette's waist.

The blonde immediately saw red at the gesture and she could hardly resist the growl that was fighting to get out of her lips. She watched as Rachel stared up at him, almost as if she was annoyed, before she smiled an obviously fake smile. The man didn't notice the fakeness of it and smiled back at Rachel.

"Who's this?" he asked, gesturing at Quinn dismissively.

Quinn's grip on Karofsky's elbow tightened and she was almost angry to the point where she could pounce on the mysterious man and punch him. Instead, she controlled herself and ignored Karofsky's near whimper.

Rachel looked back at Quinn and her grin faltered. "Th-That's Quinn," Rachel introduced almost reluctantly and Quinn wanted to scream at her because if she was so reluctant, she shouldn't bother to introduce her at all and just let her go. "Quinn, this is Finn Hudson."

Quinn frowned slightly at the familiar name. It certainly sounded familiar but she just couldn't grasp why. She nodded at Finn coldly before regarding Rachel, "Excuse us, Miss Berry," she said politely before storming into the garage with Karofsky in tow.

When they were inside, she released him and breathed angrily with her hands placed on her hips. She shouldn't be so angry right now. She and Rachel were over and done with. It shouldn't matter that there was another person touching Rachel just like she did four years ago when they were so freaking in love and everything.

_But it does matter_, a voice inside her whispered.

She shook her head and ignored it, still breathing angrily.

"Um…I know how to drive."

She spun on her heels to see Karofsky staring at her awkwardly. She glared at him for another moment before her tense shoulders slouched and suddenly all the anger inside slithered away, quickly replaced by disappointment and desolation. She leaned against the silver Sedan, tilting her head back against the window.

"I know you know how to drive. But now I'm going to teach you how to drive professionally," she finally said.

"Yes, because I haven't been driving professionally all this time," he quickly deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

She couldn't help but smile. "I mean drive in the way where you can save your and Miss Berry's lives in case anything happens, like a shootout. And then you can go off and find yourself a boyfriend and live happily ever after." She opened her eyes to see him perk up in interest. She opened the door and slid in the passenger seat. "Hop in."

At eight that evening they returned, Karofsky was still grinning from the adrenaline he felt while learning all the new complicated skills, such as how to perform a J-turn. He rounded the car grinning at her like a dope. She grinned back as well.

It had been a long time since she had driven like that, and having a person watch her with such awe was really…flattering and somehow pleasing for her shitty day. Also, she found that despite his quiet self, Karofsky was quite hilarious and a quick learner as well. She didn't have to show him the driving skills any more than twice before he quickly picked them up as though he had been driving like that all along.

He offered a hand and grinned at her. "Thank you, Quinn. That was awesome," he said.

She chuckled and took his hand, shaking it firmly. "You're welcome. You're not as frustrating as I thought you'd be." He took out his key and locked the Sedan before they walked out of the garage together. "So how long have you been working for R-Miss Berry?" If Karofsky noticed her near slipup, he certainly didn't show it. She silently approved.

He shrugged. "Um…three years?" he said uncertainly. "I don't really remember, I've been her driver for a long time."

She raised her brows and couldn't help but smirk. "Well color me impressed." He looked at her in confusion and she scoffed. "Oh come on, there is no denying that Miss Berry is a diva so I'm surprised that someone like you could hold up that long."

He laughed and stared ahead as he walked with Quinn towards the mansion. "She's not as hard as you think she is but I don't really have to face her every single hour like Kurt has to. As long as she pays me well and she's not bitchy towards me, it's all fine."

"That's a good attitude," she commented. "So where do you live, actually? I mean, I see you like, all the time, even when I wake up; so you must live here."

"I live in the house. I wake up at six and I go out for a jog. I don't really like working out in the gym room cause it's smothering. Then I come back at six forty five, get my breakfast, then do whatever it is I want to do until I have drive Miss Berry somewhere. I live a pretty boring life."

Well, at least Rachel treated her employees well, even she got a freaking pool house to herself until the job was done. She looked down at her feet as they approached the fountain, though she didn't feel like going in and possibly seeing Rachel or Kurt inside. Instead, she sat on the edge of the marble fountain and shoved her hands into her pockets. Karofsky sat next to her, crossing his ankles.

"So I heard you and Miss Berry have a history," he voiced and she turned to look at him. "You'll be surprised at how much you can hear by just being a driver. It's like you don't exist. I know a lot of things."

"That doesn't really make it an appropriate subject of discussion," she replied quietly, looking down at the cobbled driveway. "But yes, Miss Berry and I had a history."

She could feel him hesitate next to her and she didn't bother telling him to fuck off. She didn't really mind telling him despite only knowing him for less than a day.

"So I gather it's bad?" he trailed off.

She swallowed and tilted her head to look straight ahead at the driveway that led to the gate. It was dark and the shadows of the trees were making it a lot creepier. She inhaled and exhaled harshly before shrugging, digging her hands deeper into her pockets.

"It ended badly," she said. "Like, so badly." She sighed and smiled at the memories of the days she spent with Rachel before they broke up. "But the days we spent together were…" She tried to find the words in her head to describe how it felt to spend every second of every day with Rachel before everything fell apart, but she couldn't find them. Maybe it was because Rachel herself was indescribable. "I can't even find the words to describe it," she finally answered with a breathy laugh.

"You must have really loved her," he finally said softly.

She gulped, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. She stood and turned to face Karofsky. She smiled sadly and gave a tired shrug. "I still do," she croaked before walking away towards the pool house.

She didn't want to see anyone at the moment and going into the mansion would make her see someone. She was just changing into a worn out T-shirt and baggy shorts when she heard banging on her door. She frowned and walked out to open the door and Kurt was there, sweaty and panting.

"What's going on?" she asked cautiously.

He panted and braced his arms on his knees, leaning forward. "We…we got another letter."

* * *

Quinn skidded to a halt at the lounge to see Rachel sitting on the sofa with one of the security team, Marley Rose, sitting next to her doing her best to comfort and get her to stop crying. It was obviously a failed attempt because Rachel was sobbing and sniffing while staring at a white envelope on the table.

She stalked towards the table, sparing Rachel a glance before picking the envelope up, narrowing her eyes at the neat penmanship. Rachel's name was written on it. She released a breath she didn't know she was holding before opening it and reading it. They were blocks of letters that she figured was cut out from newspaper made into words.

"Sinner," she read in a whisper.

Rachel gasped and looked up at her. The paper crumpled under her tight grip and she clenched her jaw. "I found it in the gym." She turned to see Rachel staring at her, her bottom lip trembling. "I wanted to work off all my stress so I went to the gym. Then I saw the letter on the bench."

Heavy footsteps sounded from the stairs and she turned to see Finn standing under the archway with Blaine, both panting. Finn's eyes flew from Quinn to Rachel and he hurried to her side, unpleasantly pushing Marley away and wrapped his arm around her. Quinn did her best to fight off the jealousy welling up in her and tried to stay professional.

"Did you open it when you saw it?" she asked Rachel, ignoring Finn's presence.

Rachel shook her head and took a shuddering breath before saying, "I wanted to open it with you."

She stiffened and made an effort to not overthink Rachel's words. "I think it's obvious why it says 'Sinner' in this letter," she gritted and pursed her lips tightly. "I'll send a picture of this to the headquarters and see if they can find out anything with the handwriting."

"Why does it say 'Sinner'?" Finn asked Quinn looked up and saw a dumb look on his face and no indication that he was joking.

"Finn." He looked to Kurt. "Are you serious?"

He shook his head and turned back at Quinn. "Seriously, why does it say 'Sinner'?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and pointed at Finn, looking at Kurt and Blaine. "Why is this tool still here?" she said mercilessly.

"Hey!" Finn protested and Quinn ignored him.

She raised her brow at Kurt, waiting for an explanation. Rachel jumped in and explained, "Well, Finn stays over sometimes and he knows I'm sort of in an emotional turmoil so he came and wanted to comfort me."

Quinn narrowed her eyes and turned to Finn. "Your _girlfriend_'s playing the part of a lesbian who joined the army in the movie she's filming right now. Go figure." With that, she stalked away with the letter in hand.

"He's not my boyfriend!" Rachel yelled at her and she ignored it.

She was almost out the front door when someone pulled on her elbow, stopping her. She turned around, ready to snap at the person but paused when she saw Rachel standing there, panting. She took a breath and stood rooted in place, waiting for Rachel to say whatever it was she wanted to say.

Rachel frowned and pointed at the letter in Quinn's tight grip. "Finn is not my boyfriend," she panted. Quinn shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. "The writing on the envelope," she said. "It's yours."

Quinn's eyes widened and she quickly looked at the envelope, her eyes running over the neat handwriting, her eyes growing wider as recognition dawned on her. Her eyes snapped to the sharp corners of the envelope to see yellow stains, which meant the envelope was at least a year old.

This was one of the envelopes she used when she wanted to send letters to Rachel while she was in the army. She had never ended up sending them.

"Someone broke into the pool house," she whispered and shot off in a run towards the pool house, ignoring Rachel's calls. "Son of a bitch."

She slammed the door open, ran into the bedroom and took out her suitcase. She found the small padlock on it, only to see that it was unlocked. Her breathing grew rapid as she hastily unzipped it and took out the other letters stored in an inside compartment. She counted them and gasped when she realized there was one less envelope, replaced with a sheet of paper instead. Her handwriting was scribbled all over it and she grunted, falling onto her butt.

Someone broke in here and took one of her letters, switched the content in the envelope and delivered it to Rachel. He was obviously a visitor, one who was among the approved visitors.

"Quinn?" She woke up from her daze and Rachel was standing in her doorway, with the entire security team behind her. "Quinn, what is it?"

She stood up on wobbly knees and cleared her throat, her breath shivered. "Someone…someone broke in here."

Azimio squeezed past Rachel and approached Quinn, eyeing her cautiously. "How do we know it wasn't you who sent the threatening letter to Miss Berry?" he finally questioned after long minutes of silence.

She glared at him and clenched her fist. "I didn't even know what kind of movie she was filming until I came," she gritted through her clenched jaw, her wording vibrating with anger and annoyance boiling up in her.

He narrowed his eyes and shoved a finger in her face. "Maybe you didn't send the letter because of the movie. Maybe you sent it because you hold a grudge. We all know you have a history with Miss Berry," he said lowly, but loud enough for Rachel, Kurt and Finn, who was flanking, her to hear.

She slapped his hand away and shoved hers in his face instead. "Even if I had history with her, I wouldn't ever do something as disgusting as this!" She looked past his shoulder to see Rachel staring at her intensely. "Besides, I just came back from Afghanistan two months ago. She received the first letter approximately one week before I came back, so don't you dare lay the blame on me."

His jaw clenched and he glared at her for another minute, his stinking breath on her face the entire time before he swung around to face their audience. "People who are unrelated, leave," he commanded in booming voice. Nobody left. "That means you, Hudson and Anderson."

"What?" Finn exclaimed. "No, I'm staying."

"Leave," Quinn supported, standing next to Azimio. "You two are not related. Also, Azimio, bring Miss Berry and Kurt to the kitchen and wait for me there. The rest of you, check every corner of the property to see if there's anyone suspicious. Rose, get the visitors' log." Marley nodded and hurried away.

Azimio looked at her in surprise but nodded anyway before leaving with everyone, leaving Quinn alone in the pool house. Once they were gone, Quinn took out her phone and dialed Santana's number.

"Jesus, Q, I'm getting my mack on with Britt here," Santana complained breathily and Quinn's stomach twisted in disgust. "What the fuck is going on?"

"She got another letter," Quinn whispered into the speaker. There was a pause before she continued, "I don't know where I should send it for fingerprinting and shit like that. Also, the pool house was broken into and I'm about to check the recording on the security camera."

She heard some rustling and some muttering before Santana said, "I'll call Sam and have him at the mansion ASAP. He knows where the headquarters is. Get Hummel on the phone. It's obvious the pool house you're staying in is unsafe now so I'll ask him to move you into the mansion."

"No," Quinn hastily snapped. She ran her hand through her hair and swallowed. "It's possible that the bastard will come back again to get another envelope. I have to stay here."

"Okay, first off, I forgot to ask, why was your pool house broken into? And second, what envelope?" Santana asked in confusion.

Quinn sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed, burying her face into her hand. "When I was in the army, I used to…write letters to Rachel, but I never sent them because I was a coward. I took them with me everywhere and I packed them up before I came here, so…" she drifted off.

"You know, you're making things worse," Santana growled. "The honchos are going to grow suspicious and there's a high chance you'll get pulled off this job."

"I know, okay? I know." She released a breath and whined lowly, pinching the bridge of her nose as she squeezed her eyes shut. "How the hell was I supposed to know the bastard was going to break into the freaking pool house and switch one of my letters?"

"God, Q," Santana sighed. "You know what? I'm going to try and pull some strings, but I can't guarantee you'll get to stay. I'll call Sam, and you have to keep yourself on high alert from now on until I can give you more news. I'm going to request for more people to join the team."

Quinn swallowed and stood up. "You know, I think it'd be better if I didn't stay," she finally said weakly.

There was a moment of silence before Santana replied, "No. If they're going to try and pull you off this job, I'm going to insist that you stay. This has gone too far and there's nobody else better at protecting Berry than you, Quinn. Work out your damn issues with her and do your job."

"I'm losing my mind here!"

"No, you're not. You're still talking to me, you're still sane and you're not leaving. You need this job, Quinn. When you succeed in catching that bastard, it's going to go on record and if – I said if – you still can't go out and fight your ass off in some stupid war in two years, you'll have a very high chance of getting a job in the Secret Service."

Quinn gritted her teeth and growled, "Fine."

She hung up and threw her phone onto the bed harshly before getting her laptop and logging onto the security camera outside the pool house. She fast-forwarded it to five that evening, the time she left the pool house. There wasn't anything but wind blowing the leaves and natural phenomenon for the next hour and a half before there was black figure appearing outside the house. The figure was well built, clad in black. A man. He was wearing a Yankees cap so she couldn't see who he was.

She watched him take out a silver box and flip it open. She squinted her eyes to see what was in it, but the footage was too blurry. He took out a long narrow device and stuck it in her lock, picking it expertly and not more than ten seconds later, he had it unlocked. She couldn't help but raise her brows, impressed.

Another fifteen minutes passed before he came out, holding the letter in hand and doing his best to hide his face from the security camera. Her eyes widened with rage when he flipped the bird at it before walking away.

"Son of a bitch."

* * *

**what do you guys think? do i have to wear a protective armor? and will you guys please review and tell me what you think? i'm also open to suggestions to what's going to happen next. i promise i'll take all the suggestions into consideration.**

**thank you to my wonderful beta reader, CES5410 :D she's amazing, really. **

**have you guys seen the spoiler pictures of Quinn returning? oh my god she looks so beautiful but really, you can't expect anything less from our Lady Di. what really pisses me off is that she's being demoted to being a 'special guest star'. at least Ryan Murphy knows she's a star ;)**

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**i may release spoilers of what's going to happen next ;)**


	4. Questions

**Quinn's back. QUINN'S BACK! i don't even care that her storyline is beyond messed up but her face is back on my screen and everything is right in the world again. i'm not the only one who cried during Homeward Bound/Home, right? RIGHT? **

**so here's the fourth chapter. read, ponder and enjoy.**

**response to reviews:  
**

**Gleelover47: thank you! enjoy!**

**boldie: i'm so sorry...you'll know why i'm apologizing once you read this. the silver box is the box that the intruder keep his tools such as lockpicker and such.**

**RVNola546: Finn is her co-star. he was her ex-boyfriend. because Finn is _always_ annoying and controlling and selfish. **

**Ad3n: thank you and enjoy!**

* * *

Everybody was waiting in the kitchen when she returned. She looked around the room, lingering on Rachel for a second longer before settling her gaze on Azimio. She narrowed her eyes at him before clearing her throat, holding her stare.

"Someone broke into the pool house," she announced, her gaze focused on Azimio. "How did that happen?"

Azimio rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms. "You live there. Why don't you tell us?"

She clenched her teeth and faced him, her hair falling over one shoulder as she tilted her head. Unaware of a certain lustful gaze on her, she replied, "I was out teaching Karofsky how to drive so he can get Miss Berry to safety with as little harm possible, in case anything happens. Forgive me for doing my job and ensuring my employer's safety."

Azimio glared at her before leaning back against the counter. "As far as we know, there wasn't any intruder. My team has done everything according to schedule. They patrolled. They kept their eyes on Rachel at all times. We have no idea how someone could break into the freaking pool house."

"Obviously someone was slacking off," Quinn jibed. Azimio looked ready to fight back but Quinn didn't give him a chance to. "Where were _you_?"

"I was in the basement, checking out the firearm left for us by the last head of the team," he said without hesitation and Quinn could tell he wasn't lying.

She frowned and her mouth opened for a couple of seconds before saying, "You have firearm and you don't use it?"

Azimio looked sheepish and he cleared his throat. "The lockbox was locked and I didn't have the key. I was trying to pick the lock just now…for the hundredth time in my entire career," he added quietly.

She shook her head and cursed under her breath. She dragged her hand through her hair and turned to Marley. She could see the logbook in Marley's hands, and asked for it by holding out her hand. Marley nodded and gave it to her obediently. Quinn muttered a 'thanks' before sitting on a stool around the island and flipping the book open to the entries logged after 5:00 pm that day.

There were five people who arrived at 5:30. "Artie Abrams, William Schuester, Dustin Goolsby. Emma Pillsbury, Finn Hudson." She frowned and went back to one of the names. "Dustin Goolsby," she trailed off. It sounded familiar but she couldn't quite place it. Where had she heard of this person before? For the first time since she came in, she addressed Rachel and gestured at the logbook. "Who are these people?"

Rachel stared at her for a second before looking down at the list of names, her brows furrowing a little. "They're…they're part of the cast and crew of the movie I'm filming. Finn is playing the role of my character's best friend, so he's one of the leads. Artie is the director. Dustin Goolsby is the producer. He provided the budget for the filming. William Schuester and Emma Pillsbury are the writers. They're married as a matter of fact."

"Why did they come?" She bristled at the fact that they all left, while Finn Hudson stayed. She knew she shouldn't let jealousy cloud her mind but she couldn't help it. For all she knew, he was Rachel's ex-boyfriend from before Quinn. What if they were back together? Regardless of what Rachel told her just now, there was still a possibility for them to be back together.

"They came to discuss details of the movie with me. Will and Emma were planning to rewrite a scene. They were just asking for our opinions."

Quinn reread the name 'Dustin Goolsby'. It tickled in the back of her mind, but try as she might she couldn't dig out the memory of where she had heard of him. She scratched at the back of her neck while grinding her teeth.

"Quinn?" She looked up to see that Rachel had ducked her head to see her face. She could only see concern written all over her features. "What's going on in your mind?"

Quinn considered telling her but decided against it anyway. "Nothing," she quickly said and was fishing out for her phone when Rachel stopped her.

"No, it's not nothing. Whenever you were thinking hard about something, you'd scratch at the back of your neck and grind your teeth like you did just now. So, what's going on?" Rachel reiterated.

Quinn sighed and closed her eyes, cursing Rachel for understanding her so well. "What do you know about Dustin Goolsby?" she finally asked.

Rachel thought about it, her finger tapping on her chin as she thought. Then she shrugged with a frown. "He's the producer. He's got big bucks. He's uh…"

"He is not just anybody," Kurt interrupted, staring at Quinn. "Dustin Goolsby gives me the creeps, to be perfectly honest. He's got this crazy smile all the time and I have a feeling he has a thing for Rachel, 'cause he never stops leering at her."

"What? That's ridiculous, Kurt. He never leers at me!" Rachel practically squealed, slapping Kurt on the forearm.

Kurt hissed and rubbed his forearm, glaring at Rachel. "Yes, he does! Whenever you turn your back, he just has this look on his face like he's going to devour you or something. Trust me, Quinn, he's not simple. He might look amicable and laid back. But he always looks so phony and there's always something about him that always eats at me."

Quinn nodded and clicked her tongue. "His name just sounds familiar but I can't for my life recall why."

"There's nothing wrong with Dustin Goolsby." They turned to Rachel who looked determined to defend the man's honor. "Look, if it wasn't for him providing the budget, I would not be able to film this movie. We should be grateful!"

"Not me, no," Quinn murmured.

"Quinn!"

"What?" They stared at each other comically. It almost felt like they were bickering over whether or not they should be having bacon all those time's years ago. Quinn mentally shook her head and cleared her throat. "Look, you guys can be grateful to him all you want. My job is to protect you, so I'm not going to keep my suspicion off anyone," she emphasized so that the entire room could hear her. "You'll be going on set tomorrow to film this ridiculous movie of yours so why don't you go up to your room and get some sleep? I'll take care of things here."

"Why are you being such a hard-ass?" Rachel breathed, frustration crawling its way into her voice.

Quinn clenched her fists on the island and clenched her jaw, her eyes no longer warm or familiar, just ice cold and nothing else. "You hired me to be your bodyguard. A bodyguard is supposed to protect their employer, so excuse me if I'm just trying to do my job," she said sternly. Rachel looked stunned at her stiff tone. And a little afraid. Quinn slouched and dragged her hand down her face. "Look I know you have no reason to trust me right now because really, I lost that privilege four years ago, didn't I?" Her voice cracked.

"Quinn –"

"But please, just trust me one last time. Go get some sleep and I promise I will take care of it. And I will take care of you until all this nonsense ends then I'll be out of your hair," Quinn intervened; her voice had lost the authoritative tone, replaced with exhaustion and despair.

She stood up, not bothering to give Rachel a chance to say anything, and approached Azimio. "Get some of your team to check the security camera recordings for anyone suspicious. The rest of them should investigate the perimeter for any loophole that might allow an intruder to break in."

Azimio was smart enough to recognize that Quinn wasn't in the mood to argue with him, so he nodded and assigned his team. "You and I will wait at the threshold. My friend should be here any minute."

After they left, Rachel's stiff posture relaxed and she braced her elbows on the island surface, burying her face in her hands. "God, I'm going nuts," she whispered.

"She's right, Rachel. You should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow," Kurt said and pulled on Rachel's elbow. When she didn't move, Kurt sighed. "Rachel, please. Get some rest. Quinn said she'll take care of things from now on."

"I hate her."

Kurt chuckled dryly and stood next to Rachel, leaning forward against the island. "No, you don't."

Rachel stared at him for awhile before shaking her head and climbing down from the stool. She stood under the archway and breathed loudly. "No I don't," then silently walked away.

Kurt stared at the spot Rachel had previously occupied before heading to the living room, where he found his boyfriend and stepbrother sitting on the couch. The latter was impatiently bouncing his knee and rambling something about deserving to know what was going on. Kurt rolled his eyes and stood in front of them.

"Rachel's gone to bed," he announced, clapping his hands together. "Finn, you can either leave or stay in one of the guest rooms. It's up to you. Blaine, why don't you change first? I need to talk to Quinn about something."

Blaine nodded and patted Finn on the shoulder before walking past Kurt and headed to the stairs. Finn stood there, his arms on his knees and his hands clasped together as he stared at his stepbrother. Kurt stood with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for Finn to say whatever he wanted to say.

"What's going on?" Finn finally asked.

Kurt resisted the urge to look up at the sky and scream for salvation for his stepbrother's idiocy. "I told you, Rachel's been receiving threatening letters, okay? Quinn was hired as her personal bodyguard and she was just doing her job. So, brother, with your question answered, will you please just leave or go upstairs and get some sleep? You're on set tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Yeah, yeah." Finn stood up and rubbed his jean clad thighs. "I think I'm going to stay here. I'm really tired and stuff." He was just about to walk up the stairs before he paused and half turned to Kurt. "What's the deal with Quinn anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just now, she was looking at me like I killed her mother or something. And she called me a _tool_." Finn looked offended and Kurt nearly laughed.

_You kind of are a tool, _he thought and cleared his throat, waving his hand dismissively in the air. "Oh don't worry about it. She's just wary of everyone because, you know, the pool house she lives in was broken into and you were one of the visitors who came after she left it."

Finn nodded and muttered an agreement before climbing up the stairs. Kurt rolled his eyes again and ambled towards the main door.

* * *

Quinn stopped at the threshold with Azimio next to her. She craned her neck to glance at the driveway, checking for any cars that might be heading towards them. She checked her phone for any missed calls or messages. There was a text from Santana claiming that she had called Sam, and also had two more people heading their way as reinforcement.

She replied an agreement and tucked her phone back into her pocket before settling down on the top step, to wait for Sam's arrival. Azimio took out his cigarette pack and popped one between his lips. He searched his pockets for a lighter and lit the cigarette when he found it. Quinn tried not to grimace at the odor wafting toward her.

"So what's the deal between you and Miss Berry?" he finally breached the silence.

She stiffened and looked at him over her shoulder. He was staring at him with a brow raised. "None of your business," she finally answered and turned back.

He scoffed and murmured, "Yeah right."

She furrowed her brows and pursed her lips into a thin line. She tried to reassemble her jumbled mind to find the right response without having them break out into a fight. She finally settled on a quiet, "Shut your mouth before I do it for you."

He obviously didn't get the message. "You obviously have history with her and you obviously still have feelings for her. You do know that this job shouldn't involve any emotional interception because it might ruin it for you. Not that I don't want you to ruin it, but you're protecting my boss, so whatever."

She jumped onto her feet and stalked towards him in two aggressive strides. "Yeah, well you should say that to Santana Lopez, not me," she snarled in his face. Azimio took a step back, as she was far too close and the aggression in her eyes was starting to scare him.

This was how Kurt found them when he came out the front door. "Wow, did I interrupt something?"

Quinn clenched her jaw and stepped away from Azimio's personal space. "What do you want, Kurt?"

Kurt threw a cautious look at them before stepping closer to Quinn, pulling her away from Azimio. "I'm just wondering who might that friend be." He stared at her expectantly. "I have a hunch he or she is going to be someone I know."

She raised her brow and smirked. "You're gonna have to wait and see," she croaked.

He huffed and scowled at her, crossing his arms. "Come on, Quinn. Stop hiding things from me. I need to know. I have to inform the guard to let whoever it is in anyway."

She turned to him halfway and eyed him for a moment before opening her mouth to answer him but her phone rang and interrupted her. "Sorry," she muttered and answered it. "Quinn Fabray."

"Hey, I'm outside but the guard won't let me in so can you please be so kind to tell him that I'm harmless?" Sam said, obviously annoyed.

"Pass the phone to him." When the phone was passed, Quinn told the guard that Sam was to be allowed to enter from now onwards. "You took a little longer than expected," she told Sam.

"Yeah well I was crapping when Santana called me. Trust me, my ear was all blown up because I didn't answer her calls, _twice_. Jesus, that woman needs treatment. She's so on edge."

Quinn laughed and nodded. "Don't I know it? Hey, I see your car now. Talk to you very soon." She shoved her phone into her pocket and smiled at Kurt. "He's coming. You can see for yourself."

True enough, a dark blue Corvette drove up and around the fountain, finally stopping in front of the mansion. The windows were tinted so she couldn't see Sam inside. The engine was cut and the door opened to reveal the grinning face of Sam Evans. Only then did she realize that she just missed her friend so much she didn't care that Azimio and Kurt were watching, she just ran down the steps and jumped into Sam's arms, laughing into neck.

"God I missed you," she muttered and nuzzled into his neck.

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her as well, squeezing her tightly. "Me too, Q Fab. Me too." They released each other eventually and laughed again. "So before I send the envelope for processing, I have news." He took a deep breath and smiled slightly. "Santana made a few calls, and within a couple of hours she managed to snag two people from two different forces, the CIA and the FBI, to help you out."

Quinn frowned. "Wait, two?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Two. She said something like you needing help and that Ra-_Berry_ is driving you crazy," he corrected quickly but she didn't miss his almost slipup anyway. He glanced at her guiltily and cleared his throat. "One of them is me." He grinned when he saw her grin. "So, mate, ya ain't getting rid of me anytime soon," he adopted a country accent.

She laughed and smacked his chest lightly. "I'm not worried about that. So…who's the other person?" she trailed off as the passenger door on the other side opened.

"You're gonna love this," he said with a grin and turned around. "Come on out, dickhead!" he called, laughing.

"Shut your trap!" That voice was familiar.

She narrowed her eyes as the door opened wider; she heard feet stepping on the ground, the pebbles crunching under the mysterious man's shoes. Then a shaved head appeared over the roof of the car. Her eyes widened as she realized who it was.

"No way," she whispered in disbelief.

A man stood straight with his back to her before he slowly spun around with that stupid cocky grin she knew too well glued on his face. "Hey there, Quinn," he drawled, winking.

"Wait, who are you?" She frowned at him. Sam's grin dropped, as did the new guy. There was a pause where she heard a quiet gasp from Kurt. Then her lips slowly turned into a huge smile and her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Just kidding."

"Goddamn it, Q!" Sam hissed, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

Puck's jaw dropped, then he rounded the car in a flash and tackled her onto the driveway, tickling her sides as she laughed. "Don't you dare play me like that again!" Puck growled playfully. He stopped tickling her to stand and help pull her up, then wrapping her in a big bear hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning around.

Quinn shrieked and chortled heartily before yelling for Puck to put her down. "You shaved your head," she whined, rubbing his bald head roughly.

He shrugged and smirked. "Mohawk's annoying me so I shaved it off. So, you prepared for not one, but two housemates?"

She sobered and turned to see Kurt looking at them with amusement and Azimio standing just behind him with his jaw dropped. Probably because he'd never seen Quinn having so much fun before or maybe he had never thought Quinn could be so playful. She shrugged and turned back to her two best friends.

"As long as Kurt gives the okay, we can even sleep in the same bed and snuggle," she joked. Puck's face lit up. "And no, Puck, you're not getting any threesome." His grin slipped off and Sam laughed, punching him in the shoulder.

"Now that's just too naughty, Quinn," Kurt commented, clucking his tongue as he made his way down the steps to stand in front of all three of them. He smiled at the two men. "It's been a long time, both of you."

Puck and Sam smiled, both slapping him on the shoulders – a little too roughly judging by Kurt's expression. "It's nice to see you again," Puck replied and Sam nodded in agreement. "Though I'm not really too sure about our temporary employer," he said airily.

Kurt shrugged. "Well you don't have any choice, do you?" he said it more like a statement than a question. "Anyway, I'm afraid the pool house doesn't have s guestroom, so you just have to live here in the mansion. Also, no, I'm not allowing you two to share a bed with Quinn. I can't risk Rachel's bodyguards having sexual relations with each other and possibly ruining the dynamic."

Quinn rolled her eyes and put her hand on her hip while the other one dragged through her hair. "Really, Kurt?" She stared at Kurt, almost too bored but he could a little hint of offense in her eyes. "You know better than that. I haven't had sex in four years and you should know why," she informed quietly and kicked at the pebbles on the driveway. "They can take the couch if you're so afraid. There _are_ two, after all."

Kurt sighed. "Quinn, don't take this as a personal offense. I'm just trying to keep things professional."

"I don't even swing on their team!"

"Dyke," Azimio muttered on the steps and whistled, ignoring the thousand watt glare Quinn was currently sending his way.

Kurt rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers to gain back their attention. His gaze flitted from Puck to Sam then to Quinn. "I'll have sleeping bags sent over," he finally said, smiling a little. "Don't even try anything," he warned before walking up the steps into the mansion.

"Where's the envelope, Quinn? I gotta take it to headquarters. I'll be back in two hours," Sam told them, holding out his hand. Quinn handed the bag containing the recording and the envelope to Sam. Sam stared it skeptically before shaking his head. "You big coward."

"I can hear you," Quinn snapped. "And we'll talk about it when you come back. Tell them to analyze the recording I burned onto the DVD. Maybe they could get a head-start on who it is. Now get on with it!"

Sam huffed and got into the car and drove away, leaving Puck with Quinn and Azimio, who had a bored look on his face. Quinn lifted her wrist to see what time it was. Twenty minutes before midnight. She patted Puck on the shoulder and gestured for him to follow her. She skipped up the steps and stopped in front of Azimio.

"Now, you bring me to basement and let me see the firearm," she demanded.

"Oh come on! Can't we do this tomorrow? I want to go back home and I want to sleep," Azimio complained, almost to the point of whining.

"Wow, and he was the team leader?" Puck deadpanned, unimpressed.

"Hey, who the hell are you to talk?"

"Azimio!" Quinn pronounced sternly, glaring at him. "This is Puck and that was Sam. They're on the team now so start cooperating _now_. That goes for you too, Puckerman."

Puck rolled his eyes and hooked his thumbs on his belt loops. "Yeah whatever. So are we taking a look at the guns or not?"

The black man looked about to complain again but Quinn shut him off. "You don't get to go back home and sleep. Your team is still doing their job and when they're still awake, you're awake too. So am I. It's all fair and square. You can either get some coffee in the kitchen later or you can just fight to keep your eyes open. I don't care. Now, guns."

Azimio groaned and led them to the back of the garage. There was a small wooden shed there and Quinn frowned. Why had she not come across to it before? He produced a flashlight and turned it on, sticking it between his teeth as he attempted to unlock the huge padlock. The door opened with a creak, revealing a flight of stairs that lead down to the basement.

"I don't understand. Why do you have a cabin? It's just stairs to the basement," Puck stated in confusion.

The other man shrugged and motioned at the stairs. "After you," he said with a smile too wide for comfort.

Quinn took the flashlight from Azimio and made her way down the stairs. She stood at the bottom and waited for her two companions to come down as well. Azimio ambled past Quinn and found the switch to turn on the lights. The lights flickered before illuminating the path before them. It was obvious the power was weak because the lights were very dim.

She looked around her and found herself in a small cement room. There were spider webs all over the space and she could hear water dripping somewhere. Empty and dusty cabinets flanked the walls. Only one wasn't empty and it was filled only with a metal box.

She pointed at it and asked, "Is that it?" Azimio nodded and she approached it, taking it out of the cabinet and placing it on the floor. "You don't have the key?" He shook his head. Quinn sighed and produced two sharp pins from her hair and started fiddling with the lock.

She could hear Azimio scoffing behind her. "You won't be able to pick it. Even _I_ can't get it open," he said almost too smugly.

"Keep your trap shut, you limpdick," Puck muttered from next to him.

She ignored them, sweating as she fiddled with the box. Finally, she felt a click and she smirked, pocketing the pins before opening the lid. She looked smugly over her shoulder at Azimio who was staring at her in shock. She turned back around to check the contents. There were two Guncrafters and six Glocks in it. There were also bullets for each gun tucked into different compartments.

"Wait that's all we have?" Azimio exclaimed, as if he expected a freaking AK-47 or something.

She took out a Guncrafter and weighed it in her hand. "Considering that you think having a taser is so bloody cool, these should suffice," she said and stood up. "Puck, you and Sam took your own, right?"

"Yeah."

She nodded to herself. "Don't judge a book by its cover, Azimio Adams. The same goes to these pistols." She finally turned around and held up the Guncrafter. "This might look 'uncool' and weak. But it can still kill when you aim it right. I hope you know how to shoot." He nodded numbly. "Good. You have seven people on your team, including you. These are more than enough. Take _one_ for each one of them. I'll keep this one." She stuck it into the back of her pants and shut the lid of the box before carrying it over to him.

"Wait I though you have one of your own?" Puck said.

"I was thinking of a spare one in case mine isn't enough. You know, I've had that old thing for three years. Who the hell knows when it's going to act up and just get spoiled?" she said, narrowing her eyes at him. His tone was a little off putting and he sounded a little strained. "You got a problem with that?"

He stared at her before shaking his head. "No. You're right. You've got that old thing for a long time now. Take this one," he finally said, pointing at the pistol.

Quinn nodded before thrusting the box towards Azimio. He eyed it and took it, huffing when it landed heavily in his grip and he almost dropped onto his knees. She smirked and shook her head. Her smirk grew wider when she saw Puck trying to smother his laughter behind Azimio.

"Seriously, where did you get your training?" Puck struggled between wheezes.

Azimio grunted and steadied himself on his feet. "Shut up," he groaned and walked away, followed closely by Quinn and Puck.

They made it to the stairs, Azimio panting, wheezing and struggling for breath by the time they reached the top. Quinn shook her head again and locked the door to the cabin before dropping the key on top of the box.

"You should go join your teammates to check out the recordings. Distribute the pistols when they are all done with their job. Don't mistake the bullets for another. They are completely different," Quinn added before jerking her head at Puck, asking him to follow her.

He mock-saluted Azimio and trailed behind her, sticking his hands into his pockets. "So how did it go with Rachel Berry?" he asked, waggling his brows at her.

She stretched her arms over her head and sighed deeply. "I don't want to talk about that," she replied. "Now, we have to check out the recording. I have the program installed into my laptop as well." Then she quickened her pace towards the pool house.

"You're not going to be avoiding the topic forever, are you?" Puck asked as they entered the pool house. He lost his train of thoughts when he saw the interior of the house. "Holy shit."

She hummed and sat down on the couch, turning on her laptop, which was on the coffee table. "Seems like she made some money and pampered herself these past four years," she muttered and cleared her throat. "Good for her."

He collapsed onto the couch and scooted near her. Near enough for her to smell his cologne and her nose twitched. That was a familiar smell. She eyed him for awhile, her hands pausing on the keyboard. He stared back innocently. She sniffed again and frowned.

"What?" he asked.

Her eyes narrowed slightly before she shook her head and cleared her throat. "Nothing," she murmured and looked back to the laptop, clicking on the program icon. Instantly a bunch of windows appeared on screen, each showing the surveillance cameras' view. She rewound the recording to five that evening and they started watching, their eyes darting back and forth for anything suspicious.

Then, voila! The camera situated on the backdoor leading to the pool house showed a man in black, with sunglasses and a mask on, hiding his face. His actions were suspicious enough as it is as he looked around him before walking his way to the pool house. Then he appeared at the pool house front door, the recording of which she had burned for the headquarters to analyze.

"I think you found your guy, Q," Puck muttered, rubbing his palms together absentmindedly.

She rolled her eyes. "I found my 'guy' completely disguised like he's starring in the freaking Matrix. I need to know who this bastard is."

Puck shrugged. "You can't do anything until the HQ gives you the okay to run interference or shit like that. So why don't you turn off your laptop and sit down and tell Uncle Pucky your story?" Puck stated, closing the lid to the laptop as he leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head and staring at her expectantly.

Quinn raised a skeptical brow at him and smirked. "Uncle Pucky?" she enunciated. "That's the worst nickname I've heard from you." He chuckled and winked. She rolled her eyes and reclined in her seat next to him. "And I don't have any story to tell, _Uncle Pucky_."

"Now that's a lie," Puck immediately cut in, staring daringly at her, daring her to deny it.

"Where's Sam anyway?" she asked, totally avoiding the current topic.

He smacked her on the shoulder and brought her attention back to him. "Stop avoiding!" he yelled in a whisper. "What's the freaking big deal of talking to me? I'm your best bro!"

She scowled at him. "I'm not talking to you about her. Period," she enunciated stiffly before standing up and jogging towards the pool. In a flash, she dove into the pool – fully dressed – and started swimming laps as though she were fighting against the clock.

He jumped onto his feet and raced to the edge of the pool, watching her. "Why is it that you can talk to Santana and Sam about it but you can't talk to me?" he yelled.

She ignored him as she swam for another five laps before her head emerged from the water surface. A water drop dripped from her head and her chin, her white shirt was completely see-through and to be honest, it sort of turned Puck on. But no matter, she didn't play in his league and he was going to respect that.

"I didn't talk to Sam or Santana about it, Puck!" she snapped and dunked her head into the pool again and swam.

"You seriously expect me to believe that?" he yelled back. "I'm not an idiot, Quinn!"

Quinn reemerged from the water surface and glared at him, brushing her hair back with her hands as she panted. "Believe it or not, Puckerman, I _didn't_ talk to them about anything. And I'm going to keep it that way." She waded her way to the steel ladder and climbed up, squeezing the hem of her shirt to get rid of some water before padding into the pool house and into the bedroom.

She strode towards the wardrobe and slid the door opened. She tugged the drenched shirt over her head and threw it into the hamper before unclasping her bra. Eventually, the pile of clothing gathered as she stood completely naked in front of the wardrobe. She randomly threw on a purple tank top and a pair of torn jeans.

She opened the door to see Puck nursing himself with a Budweiser and she rolled her eyes before joining him on the sofa. "You're buying a new can for me," she drawled and crossed her arms, laid back and closed her eyes.

"Oh come on!" Puck groaned. "It's just a can of beer."

"I paid for it so _I _can drink it. So you're either going to replace it or give me back my money," she retorted.

"Geez, you're so freaking stingy."

A knock sounded on the door and she grunted, standing up and heading for the door. Sam was standing outside when she opened it and she smiled, gesturing for him to come in. He came in and grinned when he saw Puck sitting on the sofa.

"Dude, you have Budweiser!" he exclaimed and strode into the kitchen to grab himself one.

Quinn rolled her eyes and when he came out, she said, "You're replacing it tomorrow."

He froze, the lip of the can to his mouth. He lowered the can and swallowed. "Are you serious? It's just a freaking beer!"

"That's what I said!" Puck commented. "And she said she bought it so she could drink it. So we're gonna have to replace them tomorrow. Fucking stingy. She's got loads of money with this job and she's asking for money from us."

"Do I look like I run a charity to you?" Quinn said, dropping onto the armchair as Sam sat down next to the other man. "Look, it's late. If you guys wanna sleep, grab the sleeping bags and sleep. I know you guys are tired. But wake up before eight tomorrow. We're heading out at nine. I need to check up on a few things."

She stood up and grabbed her phone before walking out the door. She stood outside the pool house and studied her surroundings. She inspected the bushes and found nothing, so she walked up the pavement to the backdoor and slipped in. It was eerily quiet and she kept a watchful eye around her as she walked herself to the gym. It was dark, and shadows crept up the floors and walls, cast from the moonlight shining through the thin curtains.

She found the switch and flipped it. Instantly, the room flooded with light and her eyes widened slightly at the equipment and the interior design. It was like a real gym, equipped with the best and the design was convenient and simple. She headed to the bench area and looked around. The windows couldn't be opened, and most of the walls were lined with mirrors. She frowned and looked down the floor, seeking any sign of a clue that could be left by the suspect.

She scanned the entire gym and found nothing. This person was an expert in disguising and concealing. She couldn't help but be impressed.

"What are you doing here?"

She spun around and saw Rachel standing at the door. She swallowed and tilted her head up to face her, readying herself for the bombardment of questions she was sure to receive.

* * *

**Bram is happening. i can't even. Ryan Murphy aka the ruiner of his own show. i don't even know what to say. **

**and i'm starting to ship Karley (oops) and i love Becca Tobin! she's so adorable! ****oh and WWQFD? Kitty is literally me haha**

**one question: is Dianna going to be in the next episode? **


	5. No Answer

**i apologize. i know you guys are maybe on the verge of hunting me down and killing me because i didn't update for a month. there is no excuse for my lateness except for my laziness and my expertise in procrastination. i hope you can forgive me though. i can't promise there won't be a next time but i will try my best to update sooner in the future. you guys can totally rage at me, either my PM-ing me or reviewing. i won't blame you.**

**response to reviews  
**

**"guest" that reviewed on the lack of faberry interaction: i'm sorry but there will be more to come. well, Quinn always is a runner from reality.**

**Ad3n: creepy guy won't appear this chapter haha**

**boldie: i hope i won't make those mistakes either.**

* * *

Quinn's eyes flickered from Rachel's to the wall next to her. She didn't have the courage to meet the brunette's eyes and see the emotions lingering behind those soulful brown eyes that always took her breath away. She took a shuddering breath, looking at everything and everywhere but Rachel. Her hands kept slapping her thighs lightly, a habit she had when she was anxious or nervous.

She could hear Rachel stepping forward and latching the door closed behind her. She still refused to look at the brunette.

Quinn swallowed as her gaze traveled to Rachel's bare feet. She gulped again at the glistening skin under the dim light and couldn't help but let her vision travel upwards. Her throat went dry when her eyes reached the top of Rachel's endless legs. The nightdress the actress was wearing was incredibly short and so _fucking_ thin that Quinn could literally see her skin through the dress. _Jesus H. Fuck,_ she thought as her eyes slowly roamed upwards to Rachel's swelling cleavage, barely contained within the confines of the nightdress's low neckline. Rachel's neck was supple and looked oh so delicious; as always. She released a shuddering breath and finally met those expressive brown eyes and her breath was literally taken away.

There was a tinge of amusement in those swirling brown orbs. Quinn could also see the questions, confusion and, if she wasn't mistaken, adoration hiding there as well. The blonde stopped slapping her thighs and stood there like a statue. They were far apart but it was as though everything around them vanished as they looked into each other's eyes.

Quinn shuddered at the way Rachel was staring; it was as if she could look straight into Quinn's _soul_. It was immensely unnerving because Quinn always kept to herself and to have someone stare at her with such inquisition and perception was foreign to her.

"Stop doing that," she whispered after what seemed to be like centuries.

Rachel blinked and immediately the soundproof bubble that surrounded them popped and everything whooshed back to Quinn. The faint humming of the air conditioner, the gym equipment and _everything_. Rachel frowned and opened her mouth.

"Stop staring at me like you know me," Quinn answered before she could ask. "Because I assure you, Miss Berry, you _don't_ know me."

"Don't I?" Rachel said. Quinn sucked in a breath at Rachel's words. "And can we please just cut the crap here? We're alone in here. There's no one else around us. So can you please start calling me by my actual name?"

"I am your employee. I don't call my employers by their first names, _Miss Berry_," Quinn stressed. "You should be getting some sleep. You have an early day tomorrow and talking to me in the middle of the night is not helping at all."

Rachel stared at her helplessly and groaned loudly, clenching her fists. She took a couple of calming breaths before quickly approaching Quinn. She stopped when they were truly face to face with only a few feet separating them.

Quinn's heart skipped a beat. She could feel Rachel's breath lapping against her face. She knew if she even looked down one tiny bit, she would see something she hadn't seen in four years, and something that she would _really_ love to touch. She gulped and pursed her lips into a thin line.

The brunette didn't miss the way the blonde's eyes had dilated as she breathed harshly in Quinn's face. Her heart fluttered when she saw the swirls in Quinn's hazel eyes with little flecks of amber and green swimming inside. They were _beautiful_, just like Quinn. Rachel couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at her lips. At least Quinn still had some sort of sexual reaction when she saw Rachel.

"Miss Berry," Quinn whispered, her voice strained. She clenched and unclenched her fists, willing herself to not lose control and take Rachel then and there. "Watch what you're doing."

Rachel's smile stayed on her face and she shrugged. "I didn't know talking was something unacceptable," she teased. She smirked when Quinn looked slightly surprised for a second before she was back to being expressionless. Well, as expressionless as she could, seeing that she seemed to be a bit frustrated right now. Before Quinn could say anything, Rachel stated, "I have questions. Questions I would very much like to be answered."

Even if she had braced herself for them, she would never really be ready. These were questions that would somehow dig into her years in the army. The years where she desperately tried to get herself killed. Quinn took a deep breath and a step back. She couldn't stand to be in such close proximity to Rachel

"Go ahead," she said, her voice cracked to her annoyance. "Ask me."

Rachel tried to piece together her question with appropriate words, but opened her mouth and came out with, "Why is there an envelope with my name written on it in your handwriting?" She knew it wasn't a nicely worded question, but really, how was she supposed to word it?

She knew Rachel was going to ask that question but she still couldn't stop the wince from coming. She clenched her jaw and cleared her throat as she shoved her hands into her pockets, shifting her weight to her other side.

"Are you…are you sure you're ready to hear the answer? I mean, it's in the past. And I can assure you that I'm not the culprit behind all of these fucked up shenanigans," Quinn said, waving in the air. "You have a successful career. It's all that matters now, isn't it?"

Rachel tilted her head and raised her brow skeptically. "Really, Quinn? Do you really believe that?"

The other woman released a desperate sigh and ran her hand through her hair. "Ra- Miss Berry…" she whispered. The brunette didn't miss her slip up and she couldn't help but smile a little. Quinn rolled her eyes. "You're being a little irrational here, don't you think?"

"Am I?" Rachel quickly said, raising both of her eyebrows now. "I think I deserve to hear those ans –"

Quinn mirrored Rachel's face; nobody could do a better eyebrow raise than she could. She inclined her head a little and scoffed dryly. "You think so?" she interrupted. "You think you deserve the answers?"

"Yes!" Rachel insisted. "I do!"

"No!" Quinn retorted harshly. "Miss Berry, I can assure you that you don't deserve any answers." Rachel looked utterly shocked, the initial tenderness she had vanished completely. "In case you don't correctly recall, you _left_ me. I intended on coming back to you with all my heart." Her voice was hard and strained, as if she was trying to not cry.

"I was _afraid_, Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed.

"You were not afraid!" Quinn cut in. Rachel gasped. Quinn's chest inflated and deflated with every breath she took. Her features softened to a desperate and sad look. "You were not afraid," she said, her voice no longer hard. "I just…I remember very clearly what happened. You had a job opportunity in LA and you took it. That was why you left." Rachel began shaking her head. "And don't tell me you didn't mean it because I know you, or at least I did, and you _always _mean what you say."

"Quinn –"

"And despite everything, Miss Berry, I still loved you. I was sent to Iraq and I wrote letters to you that were never sent. I kept them in a box and I took them with me everywhere. I even brought them here with me. That was how I knew the pool house was broken into. That envelope was one of those that I keep my letters in. I don't know how that bastard knew about them, but he did. And I'm going to find him."

Rachel was rendered speechless. She didn't know what to say. She was utterly shocked and moved beyond belief. She couldn't believe that Quinn actually wrote letters to her. She couldn't believe that Quinn still loved her after what she did. But the past tense of it all was disconcerting. Rachel was determined to make it a present tense again. She stood there motionless, gaping at Quinn like a fool and just _speechless_.

Quinn sighed and dragged her palm down her face, trying to school her features. "And there you have it. The answer to your question. Now if you'll excuse me, Miss Berry, I have a job to do."

She sidestepped Rachel and was nearly out the door before she said, "I don't know if you remember, but I promised that I would always keep you safe. I intend to keep that promise."

The actress gasped and spun on her heels. Quinn was already gone by then. She flopped down onto the bench and buried her face in her hands. She groaned as the memories flashed back into her mind.

* * *

_It was Christmas Eve, a year after they moved in together, and Rachel was trying to place the plastic star on top of the Christmas tree they bought. Despite the fact that Rachel was Jewish and didn't celebrate Christmas, Quinn did and she intended on making this the best Christmas Quinn had ever had. _

_She suddenly lost her foothold on the stool she was standing on and tumbled down to the floor. She waited for the pain to come, but instead felt softness and warmth beneath her. She opened her eyes and saw Quinn grimacing and grunting beneath her. She squealed and scrambled off her girlfriend and pulled her onto the couch._

_She kept scolding her for being so stupid and crazy and she should have just let her fall. To her surprise, Quinn had only laughed. Rachel chastised the blonde for laughing after hurting herself like that, but Quinn turned to gaze at her with so much love and adoration._

_Then she said, "Sweetheart, I will __**always **__keep you safe. I promise."_

* * *

Quinn sat on the floor against the bed. Puck and Sam were snoring like pigs in the living room. She chugged down the can of beer in her hand and set it down before opening another one. She didn't know how much she had drunk but she certainly felt sober as fuck right now. Joining the army had increased her stamina and made much less of a lightweight she was before.

She let the bittersweet spiciness of the beer taint her taste buds and throat. It was a trying day for her and for the love of God she just couldn't sleep. She tried to sleep when she came back, but she'd rolled around in bed for the better half of the hour and decided that she wasn't getting any sleep for the night. She got up and grabbed half a dozen of beers from the fridge, and had been sitting there drinking for the rest of the night.

It was nearly dawn from the look of it, and she drank the rest of her beer before collecting the empty cans and discarding them in the dustbin. Someone would eventually clean that up. She took a look at the clock above the television in the living room and saw that it was fifteen minutes after six. She went into the bathroom and splashed her face with water to clear her head before she changed into her workout clothes. As she passed by her bed, a subtle aroma wafted to her nose.

She paused in her tracks and turned back around with a frown. She neared the side of the bed and sniffed again. This was a familiar scent. What was it again? She knelt down in the spot she had sat in while riffling her suitcase earlier and could tell the smell was the strongest there.

As if it was a lightbulb moment, she suddenly remembered Puck's cologne. Her eyes widened and her impulse was to deny it and ignore it, but the professional and rational side of her brain insisted that she should be suspicious. Why was Puck's cologne lingering in her bedroom? She argued that it could be used by anyone but she _knew_ that the brand of cologne Puck always wore wasn't common. Barely anybody used it.

She hoped so much that Puck wasn't the culprit behind all this, because she certainly wouldn't know what she would do to him if it was true. Maybe he would end up in a ditch somewhere...with his pulse stopped.

She stood up and slowly walked outside, the suspicion lingering heavily in the back of her head as she gazed warily at the sleeping forms on the living room floor; especially the one with the bald head protruding out from the blanket. She took a deep breath and walked near him, her smelling senses heightening with each step.

She was sure that the cologne would be gone by now but there would certainly be some hanging onto his body. She sniffed and gulped.

There it was.

She couldn't mistake it for anything else. Her breath shuddered as she released it and she squeezed her eyes shut, staggering and bumped against a wall behind her.

What was going on here?

* * *

It took her another fifteen minutes to physically move herself away from her friend and into the gym. She worked herself out aggressively on the treadmill and lost count of the sit-ups she did. She refused to think about her new discovery or Rachel or any other shit she had in her life.

She walked out of the gym sweating all over and she wiped her face with the towel. Puck was still snoring while Sam seemed to have made himself comfortable in the only bathroom the pool house had. She grunted and approached Puck, reaching down to shake him. His snores stopped and he groaned at her, muttering inaudibly and slapping at her hand. She rolled her eyes and shook him harder.

"Wake the fuck up," she groaned. "We've got a job to do." She finally settled on kicking him a few times and stood over him as he slowly came to consciousness. He rolled onto his back and squinted at her. She faked a smile at him and put her arms behind her, bowing a little. "Good morning, Mr. Puckerman. This is your very pleasant morning wakeup call in the Berry Pool House, temporary residence of Quinn Fabray. What can I do for you?"

Puck rolled his eyes and pushed himself upright on the mattress. He pressed the palm of his hand into his eye and grunted again. "Jesus, Q, what the fuck time is it?"

"Seven in the morning, Mr. Puckerman. Was that all you wanted to know? If it is, please excuse me while I go hurry Mr. Evans along so I can take a shower. And will you please kindly make us coffee? We have one hour until we leave," Quinn said, still mimicking the tone of a polite hostess.

"Stop doing that voice. It's freaking me out," Puck complained, climbing to his feet and stretching.

She rolled her eyes and ignored the smell Puck wafted off. "Make coffee. I need coffee. I haven't had a wink of sleep," she said, finally returning to her normal tone. Then she made her way into her bedroom and to the bathroom door. She banged on the door and yelled, "Sam Evans! Hurry the fuck up!"

"Five minutes!"

"What's that? One minute? Okay!" Quinn stood back and started counting down from sixty seconds. When she reached thirty-one, the door swung open revealing a half-naked Sam, with wet hair and a towel around his waist, scowling at her. "Wow, that was less than one minute! Yay!"

He shook his head and began muttering curse words under his breath and complaining. Something about Quinn waking up on the wrong side of the bed. He walked past her and made his way out the door, leaving wet footprints on the floor.

"Actually, I didn't actually wake up cause I didn't sleep at all. Unlike you two spoiled brats!" she called and shut the bathroom door behind her.

Quinn let the scalding hot water pelt down her naked back as she stood under the showerhead and began to think. As much as she didn't want to even _think_, she knew she had a job and she needed to do that job; even if it meant suspecting Puck. He was one of her best friends, yes, but she wasn't paid twenty thousand per week to protect her best friend.

She had no idea how to approach Puck on the subject. It wasn't like she could just go out and ask him why she could smell his cologne in her bedroom. That would just provoke an argument between them and she was trying very hard to avoid that from happening.

_You have __**one**__ job, Quinn Fabray. Do it right. _She chastised herself inwardly and made a growling sound as she leaned her forehead against the tiled wall.

A simple bodyguard job suddenly turned into something so complicated, twisted into her personal life. She wasn't supposed to be like that. She was supposed to be professional about everything and completely fair. Look at how that turned out? Rachel was acting like she was trying to get back with her. Which was just plain impossible. Santana was being a hard ass bitch at her. Puck was now making his way into her list of suspects. Everything just wasn't making sense any more.

She expected to come back here to the States and have a little normalcy and no more action or drama or whatever the fuck they call it in those stupid movies, not this bullshit of a life.

She bumped her forehead against the wall twice before shutting the water and grabbing the towel to dry off with. She wrapped the towel around herself and went out to see Puck sitting on the edge of the bed with his clothes and toiletries. He whistled when he saw her and she rolled her eyes.

"Don't even," she snapped and pointed over her shoulder at the bathroom. "Take your shower and I'm going to make breakfast."

He chuckled and stood up. He didn't miss the chance to slap her ass before escaping into the bathroom. She laughed a little and began dressing. She pulled on a white sleeveless shirt and a denim work shirt over it, matched with a pair of beige slacks. She wasn't in the mood to dress up and impress the boss. She combed her hair and dried it with her towel before pulling it up into a tight ponytail.

She grabbed her gun from the drawer and shoved it into her shoulder holster. The second gun, the one she obtained yesterday from the stash, was stuck it into the back of her slacks and hidden from plain sight with her shirt.

She turned around to see Sam leaning against the door panel with a curious look on his face. She raised her brows and moved past him to the kitchen. She poured cereal into three bowls and took out a jug of milk from the refrigerator and poured it into the three bowls.

"Eat up," she ordered and sat on one of the stools opposite Sam at the island.

"Why do you need two guns?" he asked with his mouth full.

She swallowed her mouthful of chewed cereal and shrugged. "Extra protection, I guess," she said.

"For what?"

"Why do you ask?" she retorted, raising her brow at him.

He lifted his shoulders and cleared his throat. "I was just curious."

She nodded and continued eating, not even bothering to say more. Puck came out eventually and he sat next to Quinn, wolfing down his bowl of cereal. A fresh waft of cologne flowed towards her nostrils and she sniffed. He'd reapplied his cologne. She eyed him for a long minute before shaking her head and going back to her cereal.

When she looked up, Sam was darting his gaze between Puck and her. He settled on her and raised his brows back at her as if asking 'What the hell?'.

She shook her head to indicate nothing, but she knew he wasn't buying it with that look on his face.

* * *

The garage was buzzing with people and the cars were started to life already. A Range Rover sat in front of two red and silver sedans. Obviously, it was the security team's ride. Sam's Corvette was behind the sedan. He made his way to it, unlocked the door and started it up.

It was obvious that Rachel was late. It wasn't a surprise. She always liked being 'fashionably late'.

Quinn shook the thought out of her head and approached the security team. They were huddling at one corner of the garage, minding their own business. Azimio was standing behind an Asian, who was typing quickly on a computer, mumbling something here and there. If she remembered right, his name was Mike Chang.

"Hey," she greeted. They looked up at her and nodded in acknowledgement before going back to what they were doing before. "The lady's not here yet?" she asked Azimio.

He shook his head and shrugged. "It's not really a surprise."

Her lips curled up at his words. She nodded knowingly and turned around to watch Rachel's team rushing around, finishing up last minute things. Kurt was blabbering into his Blackberry and Finn was just standing next to him, looking dumb as always. She couldn't find Blaine anywhere. Maybe he left.

She took a glance at her watch and saw that Rachel was already five minutes late. She frowned and stuck her hands into her back pockets, shuffling over to Puck who was leaning against the passenger side of Sam's car.

"What kind of cologne do you use?" she asked him without pause and with a straight face.

His eyes snapped to her and he was staring at her dubiously. "What?"

"What kind of cologne do you use?" she repeated her question, waiting for him to answer.

"Um…SG7." He frowned and shifted his weight. "Why?"

She shrugged and leaned against the car next to him. "Nothing."

He kept his eyes on her for another second before he gave a wary nod and turned back to the people rushing around, doing their jobs. She shook her head at them. She certainly could never do what they were doing now. Her head would surely explode at that. Another ten minutes passed before Rachel finally made her appearance. Finn was making that stupid grinning face again when he hugged the brunette, but the Rachel's focus wasn't on him. It was on Quinn; and by extension, Puck and Sam. A hint of surprise was on her face as she walked slowly towards them. Sam was sitting in the car, staring – or rather glaring – up at Rachel while Puck was trying to decide whether he should be unhappy or happy to see her. Quinn wasn't even looking at her. She was standing with her back to Rachel, looking down at her feet.

"Puck. Sam." Rachel's voice told them that she was surprised to see them. "What…what are you doing here?" she more or less squeaked.

Quinn couldn't help but smile at the adorable squeak she made but had quickly wipe it off before turning around to face her. "They are the new additions to the security team you've hired, Miss Berry." She inclined her head and added, "Good morning."

"Miss Berry," both of the men greeted in politeness. Puck finally settled on being completely emotionless about the whole matter.

"I would prefer it if you'd address me by my given name. After all, you guys do know me," Rachel suggested with a smile.

Puck turned to Quinn and the glare she was sending him told him enough. So he shook his head with a small smile. "I don't think that would be appropriate, Miss Berry."

"Yeah, they are very polite employees, so you won't be getting anywhere with them on this subject," Quinn cut in, smiling a little too pretentiously towards Rachel. "Anyway, we're late on schedule so why don't we hurry up? The earlier we're there, the faster you will be done. I hope your producers won't be unhappy with our presence, Miss Berry."

"Don't worry. I've cleared it up with the production company and everyone involved in the project," Kurt suddenly voiced, surprising all of them. He flicked his gaze from one to another with a bright smile on his face. "Come on, Quinn's right! We're late! Chop chop!" He hurried them and clapped his hands loudly so the crew would hear him.

Rachel's face fell a little but she climbed into the silver sedan, followed by Kurt and Finn. Quinn leaned down to see Puck and Sam already in their car. She pointed her thumb at the sedan and nodded at them once before opening the front passenger seat of the vehicle and climbed in. The rest of Rachel's crew sat in the other sedan while the security team sat in the two Range Rovers.

The garage door slid closed behind them as the cars slowly rode towards the gates. Quinn inclined her head in greeting at the guard standing at the guardhouse as they passed. She sat back in her seat and a bubble of silence surrounded them. Finn's knees were digging into her back through the seat. She moved so she could sit comfortably.

She could feel brown eyes burning into the back of her head and she tried her best to ignore the stare. She knew who it belonged to and she didn't want to acknowledge it unless necessary. Quinn tapped her fingers against her thigh and rolled her eyes when she could practically hear the smirk appearing on Rachel's face.

She fished out her phone and tapped a message to Santana.

_I need you to check something out for me – Q._

Not another minute and her phone buzzed. She opened the text and couldn't help but chuckle silently.

_Jesus Christ, do you like have a radar on you or something? Why the fuck do you keep interrupting me from getting my mack on with Britts? What the fuck do you want? _

Her fingers quickly typed a reply. _Maybe I do, who knows? Anyway, I need you to check where we can get this cologne, SG7._

Her phone buzzed once the message was sent and she picked it up.

"Are you fucking with me, Q?" Santana snapped, clearly annoyed.

"No, I'm not. This is official business. I need to know where I can get this cologne," she said as softly as she could. For safety measure, she cupped her hand over her mouth. "It was the cologne the culprit was wearing yesterday."

"What? Do you have dog nose now? How the fuck do you know?"

"It's fucking heavy in the air, okay? I can smell it!" Quinn snapped.

"Why the hell are you whispering?"

"I'm in the car with all of them. I can't let them hear me, you ass," Quinn hissed. "Now will you please check it out for me?" Then she could hear shuffling through the line and then keyboard being typed. She smiled reluctantly. "And I'm telling you this. Don't tell anyone, alright?" She breathed and said, "I can smell the cologne on Puck."

The typing stopped and there was suddenly tension hanging in the air. "What are you talking about?"

"How do you think I got the name of the cologne? I don't wear colognes." She took a deep breath and removed her hand from her mouth to run it through her hair. "I smelled it on him last night, and you know we can't let go of any suspicion. So until I get evidence of an alibi, I need to keep an eye on him too."

"Are you sure, Quinn? You can't fuck around with this." Santana's annoyance disappeared, replaced by seriousness to indicate that she wasn't fooling around anymore.

"Yes, Santana, he wears the cologne. I'm not sure yet if it's him. I'll keep an eye on him and keep you posted. Text me the details when you've found it."

"Yeah I will."

"Oh and Santana?" The Latina hummed. "Fuck you for giving me such an awesome job." Then she hung up with a snicker and threw a glance over her shoulder to see Kurt and Rachel watching her in bemusement and jealousy, respectively. She gulped and stared back at them. "You guys didn't hear what I said, did you?" she asked warily.

Kurt instantly shook his head. "I'm not sure about the grinning driver though." He cocked a brow and pointed at Karofsky in front of him.

She turned to him and indeed, he was grinning like he just heard the funniest thing ever. "Please tell me you didn't hear anything."

He shrugged. "I heard a little here and there. But not the full conversation though so I really don't know what you were talking about. I'm a bit impressed with your relationship with this Santana. You guys seem friendly enough."

She side-eyed Rachel and saw that Rachel was simmering with jealousy. "She has a girlfriend, FYI. We're just best friends," she said, addressing it to both Karofsky and the brunette sitting in the back.

* * *

They reached the set twenty minutes later and Santana had already texted Quinn all the details about SG7 and where they could get it. Apparently, it was a rare brand and they could only get it from a store down on 50th street in New York.

The set was buzzing with so much life. There were props and engineers and all the confusing things involved in filming. A man in wheelchair wheeled his way out of a block and towards Rachel. She smiled and leaned down to hug him. She introduced him as Artie Abrams, the director of the film.

He bumped fists with Finn before leading them towards another block where there was faux desert on one side. Dozens of cameras were rolling around it as the actors acted their scene. A blonde girl came bumbling out from nowhere and tackled Rachel, who laughed and hugged her back. Quinn felt a slight twinge in her heart as she watched the scene.

"This is Kitty," Rachel introduced once they released each other. "She plays the girlfriend of my character." She may have said it to everyone else, but her eyes stayed on Quinn as if she was expecting a reaction from the blonde.

Quinn kept on a poker face and nodded at the other blonde. Her heart was thudding wildly and her stomach was flipping around as she imagined both of them kissing and she couldn't help but clenched fists behind her back in frustration and envy. She inhaled deeply and turned to the director.

"Is there a Dustin Goolsby here, Mr. Abrams?" she asked.

He looked up at her and nodded. "Yeah, but he won't be around for the next couple of days. He's on a trip to LA for a conference. Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "Just curious." She looked around the set and finally settled her gaze on the security team huddling by the Range Rovers, waiting for her orders. She jerked her head towards them and said, "Excuse me while I go talk to my team." She offered a tiny smile and headed towards them in long strides. Puck was snuffing out a cigarette when she reached them. "Alright, guys, here's what you're going to do." She began ticking off jobs and when she was done, they were off. She turned towards Puck and Sam and handed them two walkie-talkies. "You guys keep an eye on her while I go check the perimeter and the environment."

They nodded and jogged towards Rachel. She felt Rachel's eyes on her and turned to the brunette who was staring at her while nodding absently at Artie's words. Quinn pursed her lips and nodded before heading off to ensure Rachel's safety on set.

Her walkie-talkie crackled every ten minutes as the team reported the situation on set. She was standing by one of the trailers and she could see it belonged to Rachel by the star on the door. She looked around her and it was awfully quiet. The actors and actresses were shooting their scenes so there wasn't anyone around. She picked up her walkie-talkie and found Sam's line.

"Sam," she called.

It took five seconds for Sam to answer. "Yeah?"

"Is she with you?"

"Yeah, she's talking with the director on how to do her scene. Why?"

"Ask her if I can go into her trailer and have a look around."

"Okay." Static crackled through and she waited as she leaned against the trailer wall. Two minutes later, the walkie-talkie crackled again. "She said no problem and take as long as you want. It's like she's expecting you to find something."

She frowned and looked back at the trailer door before answering, "Yeah, thanks. Keep an eye on her."

Quinn tucked the walkie-talkie back into her pocket and walked up the steps to the door. Her hand twisted the knob but she didn't push it open, afraid of what she would find inside. She took an encouraging breath and pushed.

* * *

**what do you think? tell me tell me tell me!**

**and can i just say i absolutely hate spoilers? all these spoilers are getting to me! Rachel getting pregnant? what kind of ridiculousness is that? if she really gets pregnant, i am absolutely done with the show. she was the one who valued her virginity like gold or something and now they're writing her to have sex with Brody and Finn in two consecutive episodes? i have rage right now.**

**oh and achele interaction! *squeal* i fangirled so hard when i saw those candids and seeing Dianna so happy makes me so happy. :)**

**anyway, happy new year! may you all have a great future and a happy life.**

**follow me on twitter: gustsgron**

**follow me on tumblr: delittlelamb dot tumblr dot com**


	6. Boom!

**hey guys! so this took lots of brainstorming and i finally worked it out! i've incorporated more glee characters into it, hope you don't mind. it's a cliffhanger so i'll be wearing protective suit in case you feel the need to hunt me down and kill me.**

**response to reviews**

**boldie: i totally agree. but i still have to stick to the personalities of the characters in _this _story. :)  
**

**nightcuddler: Quinntana friendship is the best. anybody who denies it must've been blind. and well, _hating_ on Cory really isn't nice despite everything. i mean, he's really sweet. and like i always say, they seem to be doing it for PR.**

**ghostperfect: Sam is sweet, though. but he _is_ sort of a man-whore. i mean, he kissed _all _the unholy trinity and Mercedes.**

**MCLF: well i'm not one to give up so... ;)**

**Gleelover47: oops sorry! more for you!**

**valen: WHAT? HOW CAN YOU NOT BE A FAN OF DIANNA OMG**

* * *

After two days of not working, it was nice to be back on set. She met her friends and sweet Kitty. She saw Artie and discussed a few ideas they both had running around in their heads; the conclusions were pretty satisfying for both of them. It was a pretty productive day for everyone. They shot a lot of scenes that had been delayed due to her absence and the outcome was better than they expected.

She'd been trying to catch glimpses of Quinn all day long though. Every time Artie called cut, she would snap back to reality and let her eyes wander around the set, looking for that specific golden head of hair. She did catch Quinn around a couple of times, but for no longer than ten minutes before she would disappear and Rachel would not see her again until god-knows-when. She kept wondering what Quinn had seen in her trailer. She kept wondering what Quinn would think.

Her wandering mind had caused her performance to deteriorate slightly a few times. Everyone saw it, but they were patient with her because they understood – or they thought they did. They might think that her deterioration was because of recent events, of the threatening letters and such. It wasn't though.

Rachel had expected Quinn to burst through the set, grab her in the middle of shooting and pull her aside and ask her things and kiss her and just let her _feel_ things that only Quinn could make her feel. She knew it was a little bit dramatic with the entire scene plotted out in her mind, but she was nothing if not dramatic. And Quinn's reaction certainly _wasn't_ dramatic. It was far from the fantasy she'd cooked up in her mind.

Quinn just had that expressionless face on all the goddamn time and it was slowly growing on Rachel's nerves. Why wasn't she doing anything? She saw the photos, the memories and their goddamn special cushions in her trailer! There was no way she didn't. So she should really just react – even just a _little_ bit.

But she didn't.

All she did was stand there with her hands behind her back and watch her shooting or the crew walking around, doing their job. Then she would disappear, only to reappear shortly after.

Rachel had tried to walk away and approached the blonde, but her job wouldn't allow her to. It was a busy day and she just couldn't find it in her to snap at Artie to give her a short break to let her go find Quinn. Also, almost everyone in the security team was sweating and they had this _look_ on their faces as if something was happening. Puck and Sam were there the entire time, being a little too protective and she found it so weird.

It was a little past four when Artie finally called it and let them go home. She smiled at Artie, Kitty and all her co-stars with promises to see them tomorrow before trudging towards her trailer with Kurt next to her, Puck and Sam following close behind. She could hear them talking to each other quietly. Halfway to her trailer, the walkie-talkie crackled and Quinn's voice came through.

"It's off. Everyone's safe."

She stopped in her tracks and slowly she turned around to look at them. Kurt's eyes were wide, nearly bulging out of their sockets as he gulped. They were hiding something from her. She knew she was correct, judging by the panicked looks on their faces.

* * *

Quinn heard beeping noises the moment she stepped into the trailer and was immediately alarmed. She silently latched the door closed behind her and walked to the middle of the trailer, her heavy breathing audible in the quiet space. Her eyes swept the room as she searched for the origin of the noise.

She could see photos lined up on the dressing table – photos of her and Rachel. Her brows furrowed a little as she gulped and tried to ignore them. Her eyes landed on the small sofa where two bright blue and green cushions were arranged on it. The pillows had a smiley face pattern on them and her eyes widened a little. Why hadn't Rachel throw them away? She finally paid her attention to the details of the room and a small gasp escaped her lips as she realized something.

There was _Quinn-and-Rachel_ stuff all over the room. The cushions, the photos. The stupid puzzle still missing a piece hung on the wall. All these were memories of their time together. The cushions were gifts to Rachel on their first date. The puzzle was something they would work on together when they found free time. Her throat went dry when she saw an enlarged photo, framed in a simple golden frame on the table.

It was the same photo she had in her wallet.

She took it with shivering hands and stared at it for the longest two minutes ever. The crescendo sounds of beeping interrupted her thoughts and she quickly went back to reality. She put down the frame absentmindedly and searched the trailer once more.

Her heart stopped for a second when she finally found the origin of the noise. Hidden behind the plushy cushions was a ticking time bomb with – fortunately – seven hours left until the explosion. Her breath was harsh and her body was shaking as she dialed the Bomb Defusing Team on her phone and told them the situation.

"Be discreet when you come. We don't want to alert anyone on set," she said before she hung up and she instantly grabbed her walkie-talkie and found Sam's line. "Sam, Puck, where are you?"

It was a couple of seconds before Sam answered, "Where we were before. She's talking with the wheelchair dude."

"Keep her _away_ from her trailer. For as long as you can. Better yet, don't let her go back to her trailer for next seven hours. I really need your help on this. Tell Artie to keep her as busy as he can. And if she snap at him, tell him to ignore her because that's who she is. I'll talk to you soon."

Her steps were hurried as she made her way towards Azimio, who was talking to Mike. She tapped him on his shoulder and explained the whole situation to him. She asked him to alert the team and delay Rachel as long as he possibly could. She also had to reassure him more than five times that everything was going to be okay before she finally snapped and yelled at him to just go and alert the team.

She went back to the trailer and went inside, her footsteps loud as she paced the room, glancing at the bomb one too many times. As each minute passed, her heart skipped. She was sure that she would have a heart attack if this went on any longer.

She released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding when her phone rang, finally announcing the arrival of the bomb team. She helped them make a discrete entrance through the back and quickly led them towards the trailer with their equipment in tow. She showed them the bomb and one of them let out a whistle.

Her eyes snapped to him as he had a nervous smile on his face as he brushed his hair back. He had a lean body and was really good looking- for a man. But she didn't care. She wanted to know about the bomb.

"This is going to take a long time," he finally answered, laying down his equipment kit. He quickly opened it and laid his tools out on the floor. "Whoever made it is a professional. This bomb is army-level, used for sophisticated and well-thought out extermination plans. These plans are to eradicate enemies, and this bomb is enough to kill everyone on site."

"How about the set?"

He laughed nervously, shaking his head as he picked up a screwdriver and unscrewed the lid.

She took a deep breath. "Can you disable it before it goes off?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I can. As long as it doesn't have a safety system, which can complicate things a _lot_ more." He took off the lid and laughed again. "Speak of the devil," he whispered. "Boy, this thing is a beauty and yet so dangerous."

"It doesn't look beautiful to me," Quinn quipped. "Now what?"

"Two safety systems," he said with dread in his voice as he quickly got to work. His colleagues stood around him to help him out if needed and offer advice. When he finally looked up and saw her pale face, he smiled a little. "It's all going to be okay, Agent Fabray. There's always a first time for everything and I always like a challenge."

"Well, I don't!" Quinn snapped and ran her hand through her hair. "If you don't fix it in sev – oh correction, six hours and thirty minutes – everyone will die!"

"Evacuate them," he said easily.

"I _can't_. This is incredibly appalling and terrifying and I don't want to scare the crew. Rachel might even have a heart attack!" Quinn replied, ignoring her use of Rachel's name.

The man, however, didn't miss anything and there was a smirk tugging on his lips. "Okay," he said. "I will defuse this baby. I promise. Quinn – do you mind if I call you Quinn? – I think you're putting a little too much pressure on yourself here. Go get some coffee, take a walk and then come back."

"Don't worry, Agent Fabray. Sebastian is great at his job. He's one of the best in our department. He'll fix it," one of his colleagues boasted and smiled reassuringly at her. She could still see the fear in his eyes, but who wouldn't be afraid right now. The defuse guy – Sebastian – obviously.

Quinn groaned loudly and stormed out the trailer. She grabbed a guy with headphones and a cap and asked him where she could get coffee. He gave her directions to the tent where all the supplements were located. She thanked him, giving him a reassuring smile even though he knew nothing about what was going on right now before heading off to get some caffeine.

She poured herself a cup of scalding hot coffee and drank it straight from the cup without adding sugar or creamer. She loved her coffee that way. When she was done, she threw the paper cup into the dustbin and headed to the building where Rachel was filming.

Sam and Puck were sitting a few feet behind Artie, watching Rachel film. She couldn't help but smile a little to see Rachel completely in character and so natural while acting. This was her world, her destiny. Quinn never had any doubt about that. Then she remembered the current situation and her smile melted off her face. She tapped Puck on the shoulder and he turned around.

"Quinn," he said immediately and asked, "What is going on? Why do we need to delay her?"

She glanced at Rachel over his shoulder before looking back to him. "Do not panic." She gulped and said, "There's a time bomb in her trailer." Sam and Puck's faces instantly turned from being curious to completely alarmed. "I've called the bomb team and they're defusing it. The guy – as annoyingly confident as he is – said that he will defuse it on time. Let's just keep our fingers crossed."

"What if he can't?" Sam asked the inevitable question.

Her breath shuddered as she inhaled. "Here's the plan, and you guys have to do _exactly_ as I say, okay?" They nodded. "If he can't defuse it – I will tell you if he can't - I want you to bring her to one of the cars and get out of here. She is your priority right now. If the others manage to rush out before it explodes, good for them. But I don't want you to worry about them. I want you to just keep an eye on her and keep her safe. Do you understand me?"

"What about you?"

She paused and her hands fell, slapping her thighs soundly. "I'm staying."

There was pause in the air around them as the two men stared at her and she just stared back blankly. "You mean you're going to come to us if you're really sure that it's going to explode, right?"

She just looked back and sighed. "You know I don't mean that," she finally whispered.

There was a pained expression on Puck's face and Sam's was just incredulous. "No!" Puck nearly shouted after a few moments of tense silence. Quinn's eyes widened and she quickly shushed him, grabbing his arm. "If that son of a bitch can't fucking defuse the bomb, you're not staying. I know you're kind of suicidal but I won't let you kill yourself like that!"

"It's not for you to decide!" Quinn quickly argued. "I don't care if you like it or not, okay? I'm the head of the team and I make the decisions. If that happens, you're going to take Rachel out of here. And you're going to catch that bastard for me." She fought the voice in her head that was telling her it was Puck who was doing all of this. "Promise me, both of you."

Sam stared at her before nodding solemnly. He understood the severity of the situation and he knew Quinn was just doing her job: to protect Rachel. Puck took longer to agree. He was huffing the whole time but she just smiled at them gratefully before hastily leaving them to find Azimio. She told him the same plan. She asked him to save himself and the team if things went bad. He agreed without argument.

The bomb team was putting on protective suits when she arrived back at the trailer, but she couldn't see Sebastian with the group. "Where is Sebastian?" she asked.

"Inside. Working on the bomb."

She went inside and saw Sebastian kneeling on the floor, concentrating on the bomb. He wasn't wearing a suit. She narrowed her eyes and turned around to ask his colleague.

"Why isn't he in a suit?" she whispered.

The guy smirked. "He's been messing with this stuff since he joined the academy. He's like anti-radioactive or something now. We've tried to get him to suit up though. And he said he loves the challenge."

She frowned and spun around to face the weird creature. She approached him, settling down next to him sitting Indian style, and watched him working on the wires. He glanced at her swiftly before going back to work.

"Aren't you afraid? I might make it accidentally explode if I do something wrong," he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "If you _do_ do something wrong, I will chase you from the beginning of heaven to the end of hell and torture you."

He laughed and shrugged. "With a beautiful lady like you, I'd be happy to."

"So have you got the safety systems down yet, or what?" she asked, watching his powerful hands fiddling with the tools and the wires, afraid that one second later it would go off because of a simple mishap.

He shook his head and let out a hissing breath. "Sorry, lady, but no. I'm halfway done with the first one, though. It's way more complicated than I thought it was."

"Am I supposed to relieved or scared of that statement?"

"It's your choice."

"You know," she began, narrowing her eyes at him as she watched him skeptically. "You're awfully relaxed for someone who's defusing a bomb. Everyone's life on set is literally in your hands right now. Aren't you even a little afraid?"

"If I let fear or anxiety or nerves get to me, I'd be dead right now. I tend to humor myself and stay calm and just think positive whenever I'm working. It helps. I feel more confident like that." He smiled. "You should try that sometimes. I can see you're really uptight."

She scoffed and sat back, leaning on her palms. "You don't know the first thing about me."

"Oh, you'd be surprised." He grabbed a pair of pliers from the kit. "I've met people like you. I've been one myself. You went through an emotional trauma god-knows-how-long ago and then you began closing off, building walls around yourself like Fort Knox and not letting a single person in. You became snarky and private and – excuse me – lonely and then you slowly got used to it."

She clenched her jaw and her fingers dug into the floorboards. She settled her steely gaze on him, voting to not say anything. It was slightly terrifying that Sebastian was accurate on everything, to be honest. No one could really get all the predictions correct, not even Santana. So when a stranger like this weirdo was able to guess things nobody normally could, it spooked her out.

"Look, whatever I said just now was totally just my guess. There's nothing concrete until you say so. I hope I didn't offend you though. I just like a challenge and you sort of challenged me just now," Sebastian finally said, still focused on the bomb. "It's actually nice that you decided to sit down here and talk to me. My colleagues were always too afraid of wavering my focus even though I've assured them that it won't."

She smirked and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "I always love a challenge," she croaked.

He laughed in response and nodded as if he was approving her. "Great. So do you wanna go and grab some drinks once this is done?"

She stared at him with her mouth wide open. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

He grinned. "I'm gay." Then a pause. Then he corrected, "Well, not actually gay. I'm bi. So I swing both ways. And yes, I'm asking you out on a date."

She held up her hands, palms outward. "I don't swing both ways. I don't even play on the hetero team."

He raised his eyebrow and nodded, drawling, "Okay. How about as friends? I have a feeling that we would be great friends."

She pretended to consider his offer and then with a grin, she nodded. "I _know_ it's a bad one but I have a feeling that we would be great friends too."

He laughed and then after a few minutes, he added, "If we get out of this shit, of course."

* * *

"How are things?" That was always the first thing Sam asked whenever she came to check on them. And she would always provide the similar grave shake of her head silently. And then both men would have that crestfallen look on their faces and she would have that longing feeling to get those looks of their faces.

She would always stand a few yards behind them, arms folded, as she watched the filming go down. She was lucky that they were rolling every time she came because she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to Rachel. The brunette was in her element and Quinn could feel the pride swell in her heart whenever she watched her act. She had to admit the plot and dialogue were pretty good for something that she was sure the production team wasn't familiar with.

It took two hours for Sebastian to disable the two safety systems and begin to really defuse the bomb. He kept clucking his tongue and she kept panicking because clucking tongues meant that there was something he wasn't pleased with. But then he would always send her a reassuring smile after, as if he could sense her anxiety.

He kept attempting conversation with her; asking her age, where she was from and other kinds of casual stuff. He never really asked her about the really personal details in her life, such as what kind of trauma she'd had to make her so closed off from others. It was as if he knew better than to ask. She would ask him the same stuff and she found out that he was from Dallas and was once in an acapella group and was two years older than she was. She asked him to sing for her and he sang her a really impressive line of Kelly Clarkson's _Dark Side_ to her.

"Can you sing?" he asked her.

She let out a chuckle and shrugged. "I'm not like, a really good singer. But I sing some," she revealed, winking at him.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Well, go for it," he said, extending one hand in a gesture for her to sing.

She laughed and shook her head. "Ha! No. I haven't sung in like…four years." _Ever since she left_, her subconscious reminded her and she quickly shushed it. "I'm pretty sure I couldn't sing a phrase for the life of me."

"You don't know if you don't try," he said with a grin. "Come on! I've sung for you! How about a repayment?"

"No," she stated adamantly.

"Sing."

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

She tensed slightly and her nails dug into the inside of her thigh to prevent herself from fleeing the room. "Reasons," she stated tightly, giving him a warning look.

He was silent for a moment as he fiddled with the bomb. Although he couldn't really see her, he could hear it in her voice. It was something that was personal to her. Then he finally nodded. "Okay." He laid down a tool and called, "Hunter!"

The one she had spoken to earlier about Sebastian's weirdness came in and stared at Sebastian curiously. Sebastian quickly rattled off the other tools he needed and asked about getting a glass of water. Hunter nodded and rushed out to grab the tools, coming back with them along with a bottle of water.

"Don't kill us, Smythe," he muttered before heading out again.

"Don't pressure me, Clarington." Sebastian noticed Quinn's amused look and smiled. "He's my boss, actually. Not like…_the_ boss since we work for the government. His position in the department is higher than me, I mean."

"Then why isn't he doing this?"

"Because he didn't get super intensive training like I did." He paused to check on his work so far and then continued, "Mind you, I was a very dangerous kid ever since I watched those shows about weapons and shit on _The Discovery Channel_. I bought chemicals and other lame stuff and made tiny explosives myself. I even got suspended once for pranking a friend with one."

"Oh jeez, I'm glad I wasn't that friend."

He chuckled. "My mom was crazy worried about my weird fascination and tried to send me to a therapist, but it's just my interest, you know. My dad saw the potential in me and sent me to the Academy once I graduated high school. From there, I learned about bombs and how to make them and defuse them. Hunter, however, joined after he was relieved from the army. I was offered his position once, but I refused. I don't want to just stand there and watch my people work and do nothing. I want to see and move my hands and feel accomplished when I get a bomb defused."

"Weirdly, I understand what you're talking about."

He chortled. "You're fun," he commented.

She grinned and shrugged. "I'm not always uptight."

"I can see that…" His voice drifted off. Then he lost his smile and picked a pair of sharp pliers. "Okay, um, I think we're nearly done."

She was immediately alarmed and quickly scooted towards him, watching him pick at the wires and switches. "Make good choices," she said weakly.

He merely smiled. She watched him pick a few wires apart, finally revealing a black one, standing out alone and dangerous. She let out a shuddering breath as she watched him move his hand surely and cut it. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the boom.

It never came.

She blinked her eyes open to see Sebastian's grinning face up close and her jaw dropped. She smacked his arm and scrambled to her feet. He barked a laugh and stood up, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm, his grin unwavering as she glared at him. He shook his head and bent down to assemble the tools into his kit and shut the lid. He called for Hunter again and pointed at the terrifying object on the sofa. They muttered a few things before Hunter walked out again with the bomb.

She huffed at Sebastian. "Ass," she said.

"You're too adorable for words," he teased as he held back his laughter. "I thought you were from the army! You're supposed to be fearless!"

"Whoever told you that army retirees are supposed to be fearless and not afraid of bombs, tell that asshole that they are totally wrong," she grumbled under her breath and took a look at her watch. 4:13 p.m. She grabbed her walkie-talkie from her back pocket and said, "It's off. Everyone's safe."

She clicked the line off without waiting for a reply and then stepped close to Sebastian to smack him on the chest again. "You jerk," she complained. "I thought I was going to die just now!"

"Come on, Quinn. Give me a chance. I'm confident in my job," he stated with a shrug and a nonchalant look on his face. "Anyway, how about that drink?"

She shook her head. "I think you've chosen the wrong profession. Your recklessness terrifies me." She looked around her and back to him. "I can't get drinks with you now or any sooner. I do have a job to do. I'll call you if I have the time."

He grinned slyly and waggled his brows at her. "Quinn Fabray, are you asking for my number?" he teased.

She stared at him with a bored look. "Keep that up and I'll make sure you won't have any children."

"Okay, okay," he relented. "Give me _your_ number. I'll leave you a missed call." She rattled off her number and he quickly punched it in and called it. Her phone rang and he disconnected it. "So now you have my number, don't keep me hanging. Or I'll get bored and find another 'friend'."

"I thought I said I don't play on your team."

"Won't keep me from trying."

She hesitated and then said, "My heart belongs to someone else." She was so into the conversation that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her and the tiny brunette stopping at the doorway as she heard her words. "So yeah, even if I did play on your team, you wouldn't have a chance."

Sebastian smiled softly and looked around him, his gaze lingering on the photos before he turned back to her. "I can see that. I still want to be your friend. You're interesting and strange. I like interesting and strange people."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she asked with an incredulous look.

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and bent down to pick up his tool kit. He sidestepped Quinn and glanced at her over his shoulder. "It depends on what you choose to think of it," he exclaimed before sidling past Rachel out the trailer.

Quinn, still unaware of her ex-girlfriend's presence, looked down at her shoes with her hands on her hips. She thought back on her encounter with Sebastian and their ongoing conversation for the past few hours and let out an amused chuckle. She was sort of glad that she met him. He seemed to be the only person who could make her smile now, even if she'd only known him for no more than six hours, and she still wasn't sure if he was a stalker or just as he said, a skillful man on the bomb team.

"Do you know him?"

She started and her eyes widened. She spun on her heels at lightning speed to see Rachel standing _directly_ behind her. She released a tiny gasp and took a step back. The first thing she thought was how the fuck could she let her guard down and not hear Rachel come in? She wanted to smack herself for being so careless. Then she thought, _oh shit did she hear our conversation?_

Her inability to provide an answer prodded Rachel to repeat her question. "Do you know him, Quinn?"

Quinn's eyes met hers and she was surprised to see jealousy mingling behind the curiosity and…anger? Wait, why was she angry? "Um…I just met him today."

Rachel raised her brows and Quinn could immediately see the fake innocence displayed on her face as she stared at the blonde. Quinn frowned. "Really? I would've thought you had known each other for a long time, cause you seem to be really familiar with each other."

"Rach – Miss Berry," she caught herself, "what are you trying to say?"

"How did you meet him?" Rachel asked.

"Why do you care?" Quinn snapped back, annoyed with Rachel's current behavior.

The brunette smiled, in a non-humorous and you-are-in-deep-shit way. "Why do I care?" she enunciated. "I had a bomb in my trailer for the last six hours!" she finally said – or rather, yelled. Quinn sucked in a sharp breath. "I didn't know about it until I heard you talking to Puck and Sam through the walkie-talkie. Then I came here to find my ex-girlfriend _flirting_ with a mysterious guy in my trailer as if nothing happened! Now you're asking me why do I care?"

The bodyguard sidled past Rachel and hastily shut the door before turning back around to face Rachel. "I didn't want to waver your focus on your job," she explained. "I understand why you're upset that I kept this from you. It's solved now. You're safe. That's all that matters. But I don't understand why you're so angry with me and Sebastian!"

Rachel let out a dry laugh and threw her hands up in the air, beginning to pace the floor. "Yes, of course, he's _Sebastian_ and I'm _Miss Berry_," she grumbled audibly. "And he was flirting with you. In my trailer, no less. How dare he disrespect me like that?"

"Stop!" Quinn barked and Rachel stopped in her tracks and looked up at Quinn with tearful eyes. Quinn couldn't help but feel slightly pleased at Rachel's jealousy over Sebastian, though she still thought that Rachel was being irrational. "You're not making any sense."

"What part of this doesn't make any sense?" Rachel snapped. "That guy flirted with you! And I was there to witness it!"

"So what?"

"So I'm jealous!" Rachel finally exclaimed, her voice echoed in her trailer. Quinn was shocked at her tone. Rachel chuckled dryly and covered part of her face with her palm. "I'm jealous because how come he's allowed to talk to you like that and I'm not? How come he's _Sebastian_ and I'm _Miss Berry_? You said you met him _today_. You've known me for eight years!"

Quinn watched the tears slid down Rachel's cheeks, leaving their trail in crooked paths. She ached to reach out and wipe them away and embrace her and just hold her. However, she couldn't let herself lose control. Her breath shuddered and she folded her arms in a protective stance, hardening her features.

"You don't get to be jealous," she said. _Bullshit_. She was jealous whenever she saw the brunette with Finn Hudson. She just never said it out loud. "And even if he was flirting with me, I didn't reciprocate his advances. I made my point clear to him that I would never be attracted to him. So you can rest assured. And he's my friend, so I'm calling him by his given name. You may have been my girlfriend before but not anymore. You're my employer, so I should address you as such."

"Why?" Rachel asked desperately. "Why are you making this so hard on me? Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm not doing anything to you, Miss Berry. I'm doing my job and I'm trying to protect you. I apologize for keeping information about the bomb from you but that's all I'm going to apologize for. You can't control who I'm friends with."

She was about to walk out when Rachel said in that tired tone of hers, "God, don't you see it, Quinn?" The actress fell onto the sofa and hugged one of the cushions to her chest. "I'm _still_ very much in love with you."

* * *

**uh oh. oh yeah i am mean that way lalalala~~~ review to tell me what you think! and thank you to CES5410 aka Stephanie for beta reading for me! **

**oh yeah! QUINN WILL BE IN EPISODE 14. AND THE SPOILER WHICH QUINN SAYS SHE'S GOING TO GO GAY? I NEED IT TO BE TRUE UGH.**

**and Lea Michele has changed so much. i mean, we've trended so many things for her but she didn't eve say anything! and now Finchel shippers only trended one thing and she just have to say they have magical powers. we trended _seven_ days in a row! what's that supposed to be? ugh i just don't know if i should love her or hate her.**

**anyway, i promise i will update asap. don't worry. **


	7. broken

**you're going to kill me. i'm sure of it. i think i've turned into Ryan or something. i don't know. but believe me, there is a lot of more to come. anyway, i hope you guys like it...or maybe you don't. there is a lot of angst. **

**response to reviews**

**nightcuddler: i can promise you it's neither Finn nor Jesse. Finn is just a constipated dumb ex boyfriend slash co star here. **

**boldie: um...i promise Rachel won't be _that_ weak from now on. except i'm not sure if this chapter counts hmm...**

**Ad3n: not releasing any spoilers but i will say that you are _partly _right.**

** 3: GleekOutBr posted an audio of Dianna saying Quinn can always. and there _is_ a huge spoiler that Quinn and Santana will get together and maybe even _go all the way_. (i ship it)**

**Gleelover47: i'm sorry but i'm cruel here too...**

**jupiter01: nothing good**

**Jimena: i really can't imagine Rachel with anyone except Quinn. but i can totally ship Quinn with almost anyone.**

* * *

Quinn paused at the door, her grip tight on the knob, her eyes squeezed shut as she literally lost her breath; her entire system stopped functioning for one second. She could feel Rachel's eyes burning into her side, yearning for her to turn back and talk to her. She clenched her jaw and opened her eyes again.

She spun on her heels to face Rachel, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. She didn't say anything; she just stood there and entered a staring contest with Rachel. Rachel fidgeted with her fingers and finally gave up, looking down at the floor, her head hung low. Quinn nodded and her lips formed a thin line. She looked around her, her eyes settling on _that_ particular photo; the one Rachel kept framed in her trailer and the one she carried with her always_._

"What else am I looking for? Of course you'd say that. You're always the unfair one. You're always the tipping point. You're always the one who starts things. You're always the one who wants to win. You're always the one who won't give someone a break," she mumbled, her voice growing louder with each word.

Rachel frowned and looked up. "Wha-"

"Imagine someone you love walking out the door, giving you the lamest excuse of the century and not even letting you explain or apologize," Quinn interrupted, clearly on a roll and not giving a chance to Rachel to say something. "I've _tried_, Rachel. Don't you think that I've tried to contact you? But no, there you go, cutting all contact by changing your goddamn number and moving and telling _everyone_ to not tell me where you are. Well, thank you very much for that, Rachel, for leaving a deeper scar and allowing me to get on that damn plane to risk dying."

"Quinn," Rachel called.

The blonde started, flailing her arms in the air as she rattled off. "Then I just _had_ to be so pathetic to write you letters!" She laughed dryly. "I don't even know why I am so hung up on you! I mean, are you worth it? I don't even know anymore. I've thrown myself into situations to just _die_ because I feel so painful every fucking day. I've thrown myself in front of a tank. I've stayed with a ticking time bomb on site. I got stabbed just a few millimeters away from my heart with a knife. I got into a plane crash! And you know what? I'm still alive! Then I come back and end up with this job! And I have to see you again!"

"Quinn."

"And then you have to act like everything's going to be fine and you'll try to talk to me and try to get friendly with me. It's like you're oblivious to my body language or something because it is _so obvious_ that I do not want to get friendly and throw myself into that helpless situation where I won't be able to tear myself away from you _again_ – just like how I was when we were dating." Quinn stopped and took a deep breath. "Then I realized I've always been in this helpless situation because _today_, I was willing to _die_ to keep you alive!"

"Quinn, plea-" Rachel tried again.

Quinn finally stopped and turned to face Rachel. "_Stop_ torturing me, Rachel!" she pleaded, her voice dripping with desperation. Her eyes were welling up with tears. "I'm not the Quinn I was before. You're not the Rachel I knew before. Don't tell me you love me when you so obviously don't mean it. I can't handle it anymore. I can't handle _you_ anymore. So let's just get on with our lives. You go with your boy toy and your famous life while I try to get this asshole that's been stalking you. When we're done, we'll get out of each other's lives and not see one another again."

She made her way to the door but then Rachel shouted, "_Quinn Fabray, stop right there_!" Quinn took a deep breath and turned her head to see Rachel on her feet with her hands clenched by her sides, fuming. "Sit. Down." She pointed at the sofa. "And don't even think of leaving because I will go out there and yell at you for all I care. Don't challenge me."

Quinn cursed under her breath and went to sit down. She tilted her head to stare at Rachel while the other woman was glaring at her. "Don't glare at me. It won't work," she said quietly, her voice devoid of rage.

There was knock on the door and Puck's voice came through. "Quinn? Is everything okay in there?"

Quinn sighed tiredly and shook her head even if Puck couldn't see it. "No, everything's not okay. But don't worry. We just have to…settle something."

There was silence for a while before Puck said, "Okay."

Quinn pursed her lips and looked up at Rachel again, who was no longer glaring at her but just staring. "Talk, then."

"You have to promise you won't cut me off," Rachel said softly.

The bodyguard shook her head and looked down at her hands hanging by her legs. "I can't promise that." It was weird, really. Four years ago, she would have promised _anything_ just to make Rachel happy. She could hear Rachel sigh. Quinn took a deep readying breath and lifted her eyes to meet with Rachel's.

She could hear Rachel sigh. Quinn took a deep readying breath and lifted her eyes to meet with Rachel's.

"Do you want to talk or do you want to keep me sitting here like a stupid human being that I apparently am?" Quinn deadpanned.

"That didn't shift anything in Quinn. She still had that tired look on her face and if Rachel wasn't mistaken, it had just grown more tired. "You have to believe me, Quinn. _I love you_," she repeated. Quinn still didn't move and there was literally _nothing_. "Quinn, _please_."

A moment of silence hung in the air between them before Quinn's lips curved into a tight and hopeless smile. She shrugged. "You love me. I get it. Can I go now?" she asked softly.

Rachel groaned and stomped her foot. "You get it but you _don't_ believe it!"

"There's nothing to believe."

"I love you!" Rachel proclaimed.

"I know."

"But do you believe it? Now?" Rachel leaned down to level her gaze with Quinn's.

Quinn looked toward the door longingly, but it was short lived, because Rachel cupped her cheeks firmly with her hands and turned her eyes back to her. She raised her brow questioningly and Quinn released a sigh through her nose.

"_No_," she whispered.

* * *

She was on a nice date in her favorite restaurant with Brittany when her phone buzzed in her clutch. She ignored it for the first time, thinking that nobody could disturb this rare opportunity to spend some time with her girlfriend. But then it rang for the second time. And third and fourth.

Santana groaned and literally wrangled her phone out. Her frown deepened when she saw Sam's name blinking on her screen. "What the _fuck_ do you want, Evans?" she seethed quietly and then threw a smile at Brittany before turning away. "I am on a date with Brittany. Do you know how hard it is for me to find time to even hang out with her?"

"Look, you can date her all you want after you teach me how to solve this," Sam said. There was a hint of desperation hanging from his voice. "Seriously, I can't handle this; even Puck can't handle this!"

"Handle _what_?" Santana urged.

"Quinn."

"Why? What's wrong with her?" Santana asked, though she already knew what was wrong with her. Rachel. "Did Berry do something?"

"_Exactly_! I don't even know what she did to make Quinn so angry. I'm outside the pool house now but it's _chaos_ inside. She's already broke two vases and even tried to throw the freaking armchair out. Puck is trying to control her now, but you need to help me._"_

"How can you not know what happened? You were there with her!"

Sam sighed. "After the bomb team defused the bomb, they had a long talk – I don't even know if you could call it talking with all the yelling and shit they did– and when we came back, Quinn exploded."

Santana tensed and threw a glance at Brittany, who was watching curiously. "Hold up." Sam paused in his rant. "Did you say bomb?" Her voice was dark and quiet; the atmosphere turned eerie.

She could literally hear him gulp before he squeaked uncertainly, "Yeah?"

She clenched her jaw and her grip on the phone tightened. It was a surprise that it didn't crack under her fingers. "Okay, I am done with this bullshit. Tell Hummel I'm taking the first flight to New York I can get, so he better prepare a room for us. Get Quinn sedated or something. Knock her out. Punch her. I don't care. I'm going there and I'm going to give her motherfucking smackdown."

"Santana, I don't think that's a good idea," Sam whispered harshly.

"I don't care if you think it's a good idea, Evans. It is a goddamn good idea to me. Splendid, even," she snapped and hung up. She stuffed her phone into her clutch and stood up, offering her girlfriend her hand. "Come on, Britts, we're going to New York."

Brittany squealed in excitement.

* * *

Quinn woke with a start; sitting upright and heaving harshly. Air came in and out of her lungs quickly as she tried to get a hold of herself. She felt like she had been hit by a freaking truck. She grunted and supported her head with her hand, her fingers tangled through her hair. Events from yesterday flashed through her mind and she groaned again, cursing Rachel under her breath.

She pulled herself out of bed and stared at the clock on her bedside table. "Fantastic. It's not even five. What the hell am I supposed to do?" she muttered to herself and padded outside her room to see Sam and Puck snoring like pigs outside. "Idiots."

She made a beeline towards the kitchen and grabbed some Advil from one of the cabinets swallowing them down with a glass of water. She leaned back against the edge of the island as she allowed the medication to settle in. She felt the effects kicking in when her headache began to dissipate. She washed the glass and put it back to the rack before going back into her bedroom and collapsing on her bed.

She didn't even remember how she passed out yesterday.

_Probably from overreacting like an idiot_, her inner voice scolded.

She groaned and ignored it, squeezing her eyes shut.

_You __**wanted **__to believe her. Why didn't you believe her? It wouldn't cause you so much pain, _her inner voice said again.

Quinn's eyes snapped open and she stared at the ceiling. Why? Because believing in Rachel would cost her more pain in the future.

_How can you be so sure that she doesn't love you? _

_You're seriously going to let this opportunity pass you by? She's practically begging for you to go back to her and live your happily ever after. _

_Quinn, __**come on.**_

"Jesus Christ shut up!" she exclaimed. "Leave me the fuck alone for fuck's sake." She dragged a pillow over her face and screamed all she had into it. She screamed again and again for ten minutes straight before she ran out of breath. She was still sobbing when she dragged the pillow off her face and threw to some part of the room

_You freaking masochist_.

She sobbed and sobbed. "I know."

* * *

"Quinn Fabray, wake the fuck up!"

She jolted, her eyes opening only to see Santana's face looming over her. She chuckled and shook her head. "I'm hallucinating. Satan's spawn isn't here." She closed her eyes, but found herself being shaken again.

"Do I look like a fucking hallucination to you? Wake up! We gotz to talk before you go and protect her bloody highness again. _Wake up_." Santana didn't cease shaking Quinn. She shook her harder instead.

"San, why are you shaking Quinn?"

Quinn snapped her eyes open and her gaze went straight to the door where Brittany was standing. She looked from the taller blonde to the Latina and repeated the movement again before sitting up straight.

"You brought Brittany?" she hissed.

Santana glared back. "Yeah, I brought Brittany. But that's the least of your concern right now. We – I mean us both – have to talk. More like you listen to me bitching even though I am going to be extremely right. Now get out of the fucking bed. It's fucking six in the morning."

"Yeah, exactly. It's fucking _six _in the goddamn morning. I'm super tired so why don't you leave me the fuck alone and go play with whatever toys you have with Brittany," she ranted and intended to lie back down but Santana pulled her covers away. "Santana!"

"I came here on the earliest flight I could get to talk to you. You're lucky I'm the one handling your file, or you could kiss your paycheck fucking goodbye. You and I. Need. To. Talk," the Latina enunciated each word aggressively.

They glowered at each other for awhile, not backing down. And then someone cleared their throat from the door. Sam and Puck suddenly joined Brittany and Quinn groaned, surrendering. She swung her legs off the bed and pulled Santana out the door, excusing themselves from the trio and exited to the yard outside.

Quinn let go of Santana's hand and turned around, crossing her arms. "This better be good."

Without waiting for another second to go by, Santana launched into her rant. "So imagine my anger when I get a lovely call from Sam Evans last night literally begging me to help solve this problem of a blondie throwing a freaking tantrum when they came back from their job." She eyed Quinn intensely before continuing, "And then he went on to tell me that there was a bomb on set yesterday, and then you had a nice long talk with the hobbit, which I don't doubt resulted in you throwing that tantrum."

"What's your point?"

"First question, why didn't you tell me there was a _bomb_?" Santana emphasized, her fake smile wiped off her face, replaced with a scowl. "A bomb, Q! You could've died!"

"I didn't," Quinn said in nonchalance.

Santana kept her eyes on the blonde for a long time, her calm composure unwavering. She released a breath through her nose and swallowed. This wasn't the Quinn she knew. This was a shell. And Quinn had _many shells_. Santana thought she had seen them all. Apparently, she hadn't.

Apparently, she hadn't.

"Quinn, come on," she said softly. "What is going on in your head?"

"Nothing is going on in my head," Quinn answered automatically.

"Okay, we'll talk about that later," she stressed. "Let's talk business first. Did you ever intend to tell me about the bomb?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, but you weren't exactly the first to come to my mind when I saw a ticking time bomb in my employer's trailer. And you also weren't the one I thought of when I realized that I didn't lose my life to a bomb," the blonde replied coldly.

Santana nodded. "But did you intend to tell me? Regardless when."

There was a pause before Quinn said, "Yes. You're the one who put me here after all, so of course I have to tell you." There was an unmistakable tone of displeasure and something near hatred, in Quinn's voice.

"Yeah, okay. I suppose you didn't know that I have to write a report about you when you're done with this bullshit, did you? How am I supposed to write a nice report about you when you're behaving like an asshole, huh? Tell me."

"I don't really care about my report. I'm pretty sure this experience has left a pretty dark impression on me and I won't ever want to be a bodyguard again."

"Quinn, I'm serious!" Santana finally lost it and yelled.

"So am I," Quinn retorted calmly. "How you thought this was a good idea is beyond me, Santana. But I will do my job until the end and I'll be damned if I don't find out who this asshole is that's trying to kill _her_." Like lightning, she stepped right in front of Santana and jabbed a finger in her face. "However, Santana, do not expect me to trust you after this. You lied to me – don't even try to deny it. You knew from the beginning that it was her and you still made me do this. What kind of friend does that?"

"A friend who cares about you," Santana returned calmly.

A manic grin stretched out on Quinn's face and she released a scoff. She nodded, throwing her arms in the air and slowly took steps back. "Okay," she said before turning around and storming back into the house, skirting past the trio who had been watching them and slamming the door to her room shut.

The Latina stood there, shocked. She was snapped out of her trance when Brittany stepped in front of her and touched her cheek. She looked up to see her girlfriend's worried blue eyes roaming her face.

"Are you okay, San?"

Santana blinked and stared blankly at her girlfriend before nodding, grasping Brittany's hands reassuringly before turning to Sam and Puck. "What. The hell. Happened?" she asked. "You were supposed to help her. This doesn't seem to be helping her."

"We helped her with bodyguard duties, Santana. Her problems with Rachel have nothing to do with us," Puck replied.

She narrowed her eyes at him. The things about Puck Quinn told her yesterday morning echoed in her mind and she couldn't help but feel a little suspicious. However, she decided to think about this matter later.

"Like hell it isn't," she snapped. "She's your friend, Puckerman! One of our best friends, and do I have to remind you that we all agreed we would take care of her after she boarded that first flight to war? Do I?" Her anger toned down a tiny bit when both of them had the decency to look guilty. "What happened?" she asked again.

Sam breathed before starting, "After the bomb team left, Rachel was left alone in her trailer with Quinn. We were standing pretty far away because we were talking to Hunter Clarington, the supervisor of the bomb team. Then we heard yelling and saw Quinn closing the door and then more yelling. We couldn't actually hear what they were yelling about because we were on the other side of the door. And then Quinn came out like, twenty minutes later with the coldest expression I've ever seen on her face, and it was _creepy_ the whole time we were coming back. And then she started destroying stuff when we arrived here."

"That midget must've said something," Santana murmured and tapped her forefinger against her temple. "What time is it?"

"Ugh, Quinn just left," Puck muttered, looking over his shoulder at the open front door. "We should go after her."

Santana groaned and grabbed Brittany's hand. "I'm so sorry, babe. I didn't know it was going to be such a mess," she apologized as they followed Quinn, who was walking in really fast strides in front of them.

Brittany smiled and squeezed Santana's hand. "It's okay. I'm glad that I could see Quinn again. She seems really sad," she said, her brows furrowed as she frowned.

"She is."

* * *

Fifteen minutes after they returned home from set, Kurt decided that hiring a bodyguard from the army may have been the worst idea he'd ever had. Rachel was shutting herself away from everyone. Even _him_. And they were _best_ buddies.

She'd proceeded to lock herself in her bedroom the minute they stepped foot into the mansion. Finn was sent home, despite his protests. Kurt tried to talk to his best friend but she wouldn't budge. He would've suspected she'd fainted or died if it wasn't for the sobs that kept echoing out of the room.

He'd sat outside the door for more than an hour playing Temple Run on his phone, waiting for Rachel to open the door. Then his phone just _had _to ring. It was Sam. If it was possible, there would be question marks over his head.

"What, Sam?" he said tiredly.

"Yeah um…you need to prep a room real quick. Santana is coming. And she's probably bringing Brittany as well," Sam slowly broke it down for Kurt. "And before you freak out, she said she wanted to check on Quinn, which has nothing to do with _her_."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Sam, it's Quinn. Why does Santana want to check on Quinn? Because of Rachel. She's trapped herself in her room and won't open the damn door. I'm pretty sure that their problems have everything to do with each other."

Sam took a moment to think about it and hummed in agreement. "Yeah, why didn't I think of that?"

The other man rolled his eyes and had the urge to hang up. He just couldn't understand why these people could be so _slow_ sometimes. "And yeah, Santana just has to add more problems to my extensive list, doesn't she?" he snapped and shook his head, huffing. "I'll prepare a room. You just…you watch over Quinn and _make sure_ she doesn't destroy anything."

"Um…"

"What did she do?" Kurt asked warily.

"Well, you'll have to say bye to a couple of vases. And you probably need to get a new armchair," he squeaked the last word.

Kurt sighed harshly and fanned himself, trying to not get so frustrated. "Those vases aren't worth it," he muttered and rolled his eyes. _Yeah right, they cost about two hundred bucks each. Fucking Fabray_. "And that armchair is easily replaceable. Just make sure she doesn't ruin anything else."

"Noted."

"And call me when Santana is here."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay bye."

Kurt disconnected and stood in front of the door again. He lifted his fist and knocked a few times. "Hey, Rachel? Can we talk now?" he queried. "Rach?" he called again. "Come on, you can't hide forever. You still have to come out tomorrow and be on set and believe me; you're still going to be stuck with Quinn until god-knows-when."

The second he said the magic word – or he believed he did – the door swung open violently and there stood Rachel. She was puffy-eyed, with hideous tear tracks running down her cheeks, her makeup smudged, her clothes messed up. His stance slackened and he instantly stepped forward to take Rachel in his arms.

"Oh, honey," he muttered, brushing her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder. He didn't even mind that she was leaving wet patches on his designer shirt. This was so much more important than his clothes. "Come on. Let's get inside." He led them into the bedroom and closed the door behind them. She kept wailing into his shoulder and his heart ached for his friend. _Jesus, Quinn, what did you do?_

"You have to tell me what happened, Rach."

She clenched a handful of jacket in her hands and cried harder. She would sometimes hit him and cry harder. His heart took to another level of pain when her voice cracked as she wailed and she _didn't_ panic. She didn't panic. Rachel Berry is not one to _not_ panic when her voice _cracked_. She was the one who would take a vow to not speak for a whole week if her tone didn't sound right. She was the one who would prowl the Internet for recipes to cure throat cancer when there was even a slight crack in her voice.

His eyes widened at the thought and he gulped. He unlocked his phone and tried his best to type a readable text to Artie with Rachel shaking in his arms. Rachel would definitely not be going on set tomorrow. A reply came five minutes later with Artie asking for the reason for her absence tomorrow. He typed back a quick reply to Artie saying that Rachel was sick – which was sort of true – and then apologized for the inconvenience.

It took Rachel fifteen minutes to finally cease crying and step back. She wiped her runny nose with the back of her sleeve and sniffled. She looked down on the floor and took a few breaths. Kurt stood, watching his client slash best friend worriedly. She tried to muster a smile, which was failed attempt because she looked constipated with such a forced expression.

She grimaced and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry for ruining your jacket, Kurt. I'll buy you a new one."

He shook his head frantically and grabbed Rachel by the arms. "No. Don't worry about the jacket. It's nothing. Sit down, Rachel. You're shaking." He led her to the edge of the bed and sat her down before settling next to her. He gave her a few moments before asking. "Rachel, do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "No."

Kurt swallowed. He knew it was _bad_ when she wouldn't even talk about it. "Are you sure?"

Her breath shuddered and shook her head again. "Yeah, I don't want to talk about it. Not ever. We're never talking about my bodyguard again. _Never_," she stressed.

He couldn't help but notice that Rachel didn't use Quinn's name. "Rachel…"

"No!" she exclaimed and jumped to her feet. "I don't want to talk about her, okay? She's…she's not worth it!" He could only stare at her with a look of pity. She was lying and she herself knew it. "Kurt, please," she pleaded weakly.

He sighed. "I can't have you looking like a trainwreck and not do something about it, Rach. I'm worried about you. And when people see you tomorrow, they will worry about you too. I got you an off day tomorrow. I can't get you anymore or rumors will start."

"Let them start," Rachel said. "My life is nothing now. I shouldn't even have gotten my hopes up from the start."

"Okay, what did Quinn say?" Kurt finally asked, standing up. "She must've said _something_, and you better spill it or I'll ask her personally. I'm angry enough with her right now. Don't make me go crazier."

"I don't blame her." Rachel buried her face in her hands and sighed. "I told her I love her." His breath caught as he waited for the next thing Rachel was going to say. "I asked her if she believed me."

Her words hung in the air and his impatience got to him. "And?"

She lifted her face from her hands and stared at him with teary eyes. "No."

It was like the room was roofless and he swore he could hear thunder booming and see lightning crackling around them. He felt like he could just puke his guts out and he didn't even know why. Just hearing the word out of Rachel's lips and her miserable expression made him want to throw up. He felt like this was the end of the world or something and it wasn't even _his_ relationship problem. This was more than just a problem though.

It was a disaster.

Kurt stood there frozen as Rachel concealed her mouth with her palm and shook her head without stopping. He didn't know why he felt so painful. Maybe it was because Rachel had told him so many times how she loved Quinn and he'd slowly grown attached to this tragic love story.

"Rachel," he said quietly.

She whined and shook her head harder. He was almost afraid she would shake off her head. He listened to her _wheezing_ behind her hand and then she said, "I just need to be alone right now. Can you please go?" Her voice was strained and there were cracks everywhere but she didn't seem to mind even a little.

He slowly nodded. "I'll go make you some tea with honey then I'll be gone, okay?"

She nodded without saying a word and just waved him off. He went out and got her the tea. When he went back inside her room, she was sitting on the bed, staring into the space. He sighed and approached her, leaning down to kiss her on her forehead.

"Please promise me you won't do anything stupid," he whispered.

She didn't respond. He didn't expect her to. He sighed again and squeezed her arm before heading out, making sure to close the door behind him before he walked down the corridor and dialed his boyfriend's number.

* * *

Quinn was pouring herself coffee when they came in the back door. She looked up at them and, as if they were invisible, looked down again to her cup. There was no one else in the kitchen. The atmosphere was _tense_ and Santana could feel her hairs standing up. She gulped and kept a close eye on the blonde who sat down at the island as she poured her and Brittany their cups of coffee. The boys did the same and they joined Quinn at the island.

They drank in silence. Santana was watching Quinn while Brittany was playing with her fingers next to her. Puck and Sam were looking back and forth from the bodyguard to the Latina warily. You never knew what would happen when these two were together. You just didn't.

Twenty minutes passed without a word and Puck was growing uncomfortable. He fidgeted in his seat and pleaded silently for someone to say anything, even if it was to erupt a Fabray-Lopez war. It was like his wish was granted and he literally sighed in relief when Kurt walked in, standing frozen under the archway as he stared at the new additions.

His eyes lingered on Quinn for a couple of seconds longer, filled with despise and anger. He then turned to Santana and smiled tightly.

"Good to see you here with us, Santana. You too, Brittany." Brittany giggled and leaped off her seat. Before he knew it, he had an armful of Brittany squeezing him tightly. He made a note to check with the doctor to see if he had any broken ribs later. "Miss Fabray, Miss Berry won't be going on set today. She feels _unwell_," he emphasized, pointedly staring at Quinn.

"Noted," Quinn replied without looking from her cup.

Kurt huffed and stalked towards the coffeemaker, pouring two cups of coffee and placing them on a tray. Then he took out eggs – fake, of course, since Rachel was vegan – from the fridge and rolls from a cabinet.

"Would you guys like breakfast?" he asked politely.

"Yes, I am starving," Puck said.

"Yeah me too," Sam seconded.

"Make some for Britts," Santana added in.

"Oh do you have bacon? I think Quinn would like some," Brittany voiced with a grin on her face.

Kurt paused in his movements before saying, "Sure. Rachel had some bought specially when she found out Quinn was her bodyguard," he informed, obviously directing it to Quinn.

Quinn whooshed out a breath before standing to her feet, taking her cup to the sink and putting it in. "No. I'm not hungry. I'm just going to make my rounds," she said, before leaving; the room maintaining an eerie silence, save the sound of Kurt's knife on the cutting board.

"Quinn is really sad," Brittany commented after a few moments of silence.

Kurt's knife hacked against the board loudly, startling everyone. He turned around slowly with an angry look on his face as he addressed Brittany, "Go and see Rachel and I dare you to tell me the same thing you said before."

"Hey!" Santana protested. "Don't take it out on Britt. She knows nothing. On that note, neither do I."

"Your best friend has trust issues," Kurt said. "Severe trust issues. I recommend she see a therapist to fix that. It's because of her trust issues that _my_ best friend is now cooped up in her room looking like someone murdered her fathers."

"Yeah well, you can't blame her for having trust issues, Hummel," Santana retorted.

"I damn well can!" Kurt argued. "She betrayed Rachel's trust in the first place. Why the hell is she acting like a bitch when Rachel is trying to be nice, huh? Shouldn't she be the one begging for Rachel to take her back? Why is it that the situation has turned around?"

"Believe me when I said Quinn has _every_ reason to have trust issues. I'm not saying Rachel is completely wrong, but she's wrong at some places. Quinn has been hiding something from me for years. Something about that midget who you say is so depressed. She left Quinn for some other reason, which I don't know of." Santana paused, giving Kurt space to argue. Looking at his stricken expression, she knew he knew something. "And she's from the army, Hummel. What else do you expect? You don't simply _trust_ people when you're in the fucking army. Are you daft or something?"

"Okay, fine. Maybe you're right. But that doesn't give her any reason to hurt Rachel like she did yesterday."

"I don't even know what happened yesterday!"

"She doesn't believe that Rachel loves her!" Kurt yelled back. The other three people were watching them and Brittany was slightly terrified with what was happening now. Santana frowned at his statement. "Rachel told her she loves her. She asked Quinn if she believed her. Quinn said _no_."

"Don't fuck with me, Hummel."

"My best friend's heart is on the line here. Do you think I would joke about shit like this?"

"Berry left her."

"That doesn't mean she didn't love her."

"If she did, she wouldn't have left."

"She was afraid."

"There was some other reason she left."

"You don't know that."

"See? You're lying. I know when somebody lies; I'm the expert of lies for fuck's sake. Now spill, Hummel."

"Will you people please just shut up?" Another voice wafted in. They turned to the source and saw an awful looking Rachel standing there. "Please." They stayed quiet. Brittany was ready to go and hug Rachel because she looked so depressed but Santana was holding her down. Rachel nodded and said, "Thank you."

She made her way inside. "You wanna know the other reason, Santana?" The Latina nodded quietly. "Okay." She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. "I left because I was afraid." Santana scoffed. "Believe me, Santana, even if you don't trust me, just believe me for now because I honestly cannot find the energy to lie or argue. I was really scared, so I left. But I also left because…I was offered a job opportunity in LA. I couldn't miss it. So I took it."

Everyone's breath caught except for Kurt and Rachel. Puck and Sam's eyes widened and they just stared at Rachel as though she were a whole different person. Brittany whimpered when Santana's grip on her wrist tightened and her entire posture stiffened.

"I am going to _kill_ you." Then she lunged.

* * *

_**cliffhanger**_**. i'm going to wear a bulletproof vest from now on lol...review?**

**did you guys hear Love Song? asdsjdhaskhfkjgrjfrhf! DIANNA KILLED IT. it's on repeat on my ipod. i'm just so happy that Faberry is reunited and they're singing something! -puking rainbows and farting candies-**

**oh did you hear the spoiler about Quinntana? i will always Faberry and it will always be my otp but i ship these two too. and let's face it, Ryan's screwing up his show so i really don't expect anything from him, so why don't we just appreciate a little of lesbianism while we have it huh?**

**see you next chapter!**

**follow me on twitter: snowsgron**

**follow me on tumblr: delittlelamb dot tumblr dot com**


	8. Always

**hey guys! this chapter is finally done yay! and i really love this chapter. one of my faves. i hope you like it too. and a big thank you to my beta, Stephanie aka CES5410. she's amazing! i mean, if it's not for her, i don't think i'd be able to achieve so much! **

**response to reviews**

**Denethion: well i'm not sure what kind of Rachel would have you like her but i hope this chapter will make you like her a little bit more.**

**nightcuddler: aww thank you :)**

**Ad3n: i don't think this chapter is counted as a cliffhanger haha**

**Serena: maybe it's not him ;)**

**sammyc21: oh no i won't! that fic was painful and frustrating ugh but i promise i won't pull an 'undeniable' **

**okay! now, read, ponder and enjoy.**

* * *

"Santana!"

Quinn paused for a second and then took off in a short sprint back to the kitchen door only to find Sam and Brittany trying to restrain Santana, who was struggling out of their hold with her arms held out and her fingers clawing at thin air. Puck was standing by as if he didn't know what he should do. She shifted her gaze to Kurt, who was standing in front of Rachel as though he was shielding her.

"Let me at her!" Santana shrieked with so much rage. There were tears welling up on the rim of her eyes.

"San, you need to calm down," Brittany said, her tone choked as she tried to hold back her own tears. "_Please_. Hurting Rachel won't do you any good," she added when Santana didn't seem to be calming down.

"She _hurt _Quinn, Britt. I can't calm down. She left Quinn for some goddamn opportunity in LA. What kind of girlfriend does that for anything less than some superficial and fucked up reasons? Just let me go!" she cried and bit into Sam's arm.

Sam yelped and his grip loosened, leaving only Brittany as an anchor to hold Santana back, which wasn't much help because the Latina could be very strong when she was really fueled up. Brittany finally let go and Santana bolted like lightning. Before she could do anything to hurt Rachel, she was slammed back into the island by a stronger force.

Santana hissed in pain and her eyes squeezed shut for a second. She could hear low growling from the person holding her in place and _damn it_ she couldn't get out. She opened her eyes to see the subject of their argument pinning her wrists to the island surface and if the people there didn't know better, they would have thought they were going to do something sexual.

Quinn was snarling in her face; the anger and fire in her eyes almost scared Santana, but it was not enough. Santana narrowed her eyes and glared back at Quinn, telling her to let go silently; Quinn's own posture showing that she wouldn't, her head tilted to the side as if ready to pounce on her and rip her to shreds. There was so much tension in the room that it was almost freezing cold.

"Let me go, Quinn," Santana finally verbalized her command.

The blonde shook her head. "No," she growled. "You hurt her. I hurt you. I don't care what she told you, though I assume she's told you the other reason. Still, I don't care. She is off limits and you should know that. But if you don't, I will tell you now. If you touch her in any harmful way, I swear to God I will find you, and you won't like what I'll do to you."

Santana huffed and clenched her jaw. "Quinn, she _left_ you."

"I betrayed her trust first. You said that yourself when you gave me the job. I joined the army without consulting her and she had every right to leave me. The job opportunity was just motivation for her departure. I can't say I'm not angry at her for leaving because of that, but I can say I'm not angry at her for leaving because of what I did."

"She still hurt you. She cut off all contact. She made you who you are now."

"No, I made me who I am now. I'm the fucked up one who couldn't let go. She's the smart one who let me go."

"I didn't," Rachel cut in.

"_Shut up_," Quinn snapped angrily, glancing over her shoulder. "I'm trying to save your ass here so please just let me talk."

"I can protect myself," Rachel retorted stubbornly.

Quinn closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. The vein in her neck was throbbing with adrenaline and frustration and plain rage. She took a deep cleansing breath and decided to ignore Rachel and focus on Santana. She opened her eyes to look straight into the Latina's.

"I said it once, I'll say it again, if you hurt her, I'll hurt you," Quinn said lowly.

"After all she's done to you?" Santana asked with an incredulous look on her face.

There was a pause in the air as Quinn and Santana were challenging each other with their eyes. Brittany was trying to find a way to interject and Rachel was trying to interrupt, but Kurt was stopping her with his hand over her mouth. Then Quinn said a word that withdrew three gasps from around the room.

"_Always_."

Santana's eyes widened a fraction and Quinn just stood there. Both of them could practically hear her heart clench and squeezing the last bit of blood she had as she said the word. Finally, she nodded and relaxed her posture. She released a breath and accepted defeat.

Quinn could sense the change in Santana, so she released her and straightened, adjusting the lapels of her jacket. Then she nodded her head at Santana before ducking and quickly escaping the room. She stopped at the door before completely leaving, and looked out at the backyard where the pool house was nothing but a small dot in her view.

"Don't ever lie to me again," she said softly and left.

But not before she heard, "I _wasn't_, you idiot."

* * *

Maybe Brittany Susan Pierce wasn't the smartest person in the universe. Maybe she was slow sometimes; but that didn't mean she was stupid. She was just smart from another perspective, such as reading people and evaluating situations.

The truth was she chose to keep quiet. She knew things would turn for the worse if she said something that should not be said. The universe was weird that way. People asked for honesty, but when they got it, they're just got pissed and threw chairs and stuff like that.

Maybe they didn't see it. But right now, as Santana laid on the bed with her head on her lap idly flicking through a magazine, Brittany's heart was aching. Not for herself, but for Quinn. She could read people, and she could read Rachel pretty well because that girl always displayed her emotions like neon lights on her face.

And she knew that Santana was right.

Rachel was a superficial girlfriend- or at least she was four years ago. She couldn't know for certain if she was still that way now. Brittany hadn't seen the girl for eons and she just didn't know. She couldn't read Rachel while she had been busy keeping Santana from murdering the actress, however she could see the truth shining behind Rachel's eyes when she said she wasn't lying.

Brittany wanted Quinn to believe Rachel, but the other blonde was too damaged to believe in anything anymore. The dancer could see the dullness in Quinn's hazel eyes. She could see the pain and cracks hiding behind the stony expression. In her opinion, Rachel wasn't as good an actress when compared to Quinn. Quinn mastered the skill of hiding her pain and torment and replaced it with almost-real smiles and laughs.

Nobody could see that she was in pain except for Brittany and Santana. And Santana knew all of this because Brittany had told her every time Quinn visited. Santana found it hard to believe at first, but then slowly grew to believe in her when she had kept an eye on Quinn the next day.

Brittany ached for Quinn because after four years, she was still so hung up on that one girl who did nothing but shatter her heart to pieces. She was willing to hurt her best friend for a girl like that.

When Quinn was pinning Santana to the island, she had a look on her face that Brittany had never seen on Quinn before. It was ferocious and angry and frustrated and there was an obvious love reflected in her eyes. Love that was not targeted towards Santana, but towards the girl cowering behind Kurt.

In that moment, Brittany had truly felt ire towards Rachel Berry. She blamed her for putting that look on Quinn's face. She blamed her for putting Quinn through so much agony.

"What are you thinking, Britt?"

Brittany snapped out of her thoughts and looked down at Santana. Her fingers stopped stroking through Santana's locks and instead settled on the top of her head. Brittany sighed and swallowed.

"I'm thinking of Quinn and Rachel," she admitted and released another sigh.

Santana tensed and she slowly sat upright, maneuvered herself to sit next to Brittany. "What about them?" she asked softly.

"Rachel wasn't lying, you know, when she said she still loved Quinn. Well, she didn't actually say it but she sort of said it…" she trailed off. "I can see it. She wasn't lying."

"It's too late for her now," Santana quickly said, a little too angrily. "And frankly, I'm glad it's too late for her. That could spare Q the misery."

"But it isn't," Brittany stated as if it was obvious.

Santana played with Brittany's fingers and breathed harshly through her nose as she clenched and unclenched her jaw. "God, she could be so stupid sometimes," she finally exclaimed as she climbed out of bed and started to pace the floor in front of it. "I mean, who on God's earth would do that when their partner ditched them for their own stupid dreams? Quinn -motherfucking -Fabray, obviously. Well, of course, 'cause she's dumb as fuck and couldn't see that I was trying to do justice for her."

"Are you saying you wouldn't protect me?"

"Of course I would protect you! I love you and don't even put us in their positions because their positions are annoying and irritating and stupid and you and I are better than them."

"But what if we _were_ in their positions?" Brittany insisted. "Not that I would leave you 'cause you're awesome to cuddle with, but what if we were in their positions and someone wanted to attack me? Would you protect me?"

"Of course I would!" Santana said quickly and then paused. She churned Brittany's argument over in her mind for a moment and then groaned, lowering herself into a crouch and lifting her arms to lean her head against them. "You don't fight fair," she muttered.

"No, I'm just saying that it's not Quinn's fault for wanting to protect Rachel 'cause she still loves her." Brittany slid out of bed and sat in front of Santana, taking her hands and looking into her girlfriend's eyes. "And I would do the same for you. Because I love you. And you're an awesome cuddle buddy."

"Brittany," Santana whined and the blonde chuckled. "We still can't do anything."

Brittany hummed and then said, "I wanna go talk to Rachel." She looked at Santana carefully, gauging her reaction.

Santana struggled between agreeing and saying no. She didn't want her girlfriend near Berry because while she was obviously beyond furious with that midget, she also thought that it would be a good idea for them to talk. Maybe Brittany could use her pure genius to help Rachel out and knock some sense into Quinn's damaged head.

She wanted to help her best friend because try as she might, Quinn was the happiest when she was with Rachel. Well, at least she was four years ago.

Santana sighed and shrugged. "I guess I have no choice but to let you go talk to her. I want to help Quinn too."

The blonde smiled. "And maybe you could go talk to Quinn?"

"No. She hates me enough," Santana said quickly.

"She doesn't hate you," Brittany chastised and cupped Santana's cheek. "She's just disappointed because you lied to her. You can make things right again. Quinn's a soft person," she added with a smirk.

Santana couldn't help but smirk too. "I'll talk to her later when we get to the charity show. I promise. Now I'm just really tired and we have to unpack."

Brittany hummed. "Well, okay. I'll go find Rachel now."

The Latina leaned forward to lay a kiss on Brittany's lips. "I'll see you later," she whispered against Brittany's lips and then kissed her again.

* * *

Rachel was standing at the threshold looking out at her estate when Brittany found her. She didn't notice the dancer's presence though; she was too deep in her thoughts to notice anything. She had a shawl wrapped around her and she was dressed in very casual clothing.

It had been a very tiring week for her. Quinn was adamant in her avoidance of her and rejecting her advances – if they could even be called that. She herself was basically rejected of her love because the opposite was too damaged to believe in anyone, especially someone who broke her heart in the first place. Added to all this was that she could lose her life any time now because of some psycho out there who wanted her gone.

Come to think of it, she really wouldn't mind if Santana had killed her just now. She wouldn't mind if that psycho appeared now and stabbed her in the heart; that would ease her pain so easily.

She wished she had a time machine so she could turn back the clock and not leave Quinn behind, nut that was just a foolish wish that could never be fulfilled based on today's technology. She wished she could change Quinn's stubborn mind. She wished life could just be _easy_.

"Thinking so hard will make your head crack." She jumped and turned partly to see Brittany standing a step behind her. Brittany smiled and shrugged. "Like there's gonna be a crack in your skull."

Rachel frowned and then remembered that Brittany didn't make sense sometimes so she just shrugged and turned back to the view in front of her. "What do you want, Brittany?"

"I want to talk to you about Quinn."

That was a blatant reply that made Rachel freeze entirely. Her grip on the shawl tightened and she took in a deep breath. "There's nothing about her to talk about," she said between clenched teeth. "You should go back to Santana. Get some rest before we drive out."

"There are a lot of things about her to talk about," Brittany corrected and moved forward so she could stand right next to Rachel. "Try harder, Rachel." The brunette turned to the dancer sharply, an offended look on her face. "I mean literally, _try harder_."

"How? She doesn't trust me. I guess she has a valid reason. I just don't understand why _I _trust _her_ when she was at the wrong…er side," Rachel said and frowned at her choice of words. "I'm just saying I should be the one who doesn't trust her, right?"

Brittany hummed in high pitch before saying, "You both have rights to not trust each other. But I'd prefer it if you trust each other. Then Santana wouldn't be so angry and I wouldn't miss out on sexy times."

Rachel's eyes widened a fraction and she stared at Brittany with her mouth slight agape before finally closing it again and looked back to the front, gulping. "Well, I'm sorry for…interrupting your sexy times," she said slowly, picking through her words carefully. "However, I still don't know how to 'try harder'," she air quoted.

"Don't force her into something she's not ready for yet," Brittany started. "Like trusting you. She's not ready to trust you just yet. And like San said, she came from the armor –"

"The army," Rachel quickly corrected.

"That's what I said, isn't it? Anyway, she came from the army and people in the army don't normally trust people because the other people might shoot you or throw you in a pit or something. So you'll have to mature it."

"Nurture."

"Stop interrupting me, Rachel." Rachel rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. "You'll have to nurture it to get her to trust you again." At the look on Rachel's face, she rolled her eyes. "Land a truce with her. Talk to her like a friend, not like a desperate woman. I believe she will slowly get used to it and slowly trust you."

The brunette thought on it for awhile and then a wry smile tugged on her lips. For someone like Brittany, she gave one of the best plans ever. "That's a pretty good plan," she said.

"It's not a plan. It's all you can do," Brittany said straightforwardly.

Rachel nodded hesitantly. "Don't burst my bubble, Brittany," she said softly. "Sometimes, people just need bubbles to not hurt so much."

"That's why bubbles are awesome," the blonde remarked with a grin.

Rachel chuckled and turned to Brittany and leaned forward to hug her. Brittany, always the hugger, giggled and wrapped her strong arms around Rachel's waist, lifting her from the ground. Rachel squealed in surprise and laughed.

They didn't notice the blonde woman watching them from the garage with a small smile on her lips.

Or the man hiding behind one of the trees on the side of the driveway.

* * *

Quinn smiled at the vendor, who looked like he should have retired ages ago, as he handed her a cup of coffee. She paid him, telling him to keep the change. She sipped on the coffee and strode towards the entrance of the building where Rachel would be performing. She walked up the stairs to the indoor balcony and looked down, surveying the area.

She touched the Bluetooth headset on her ear and began barking orders to her subordinates, letting them know where they should be for the entire charity show. She was glad she had at least some obedient ones who actually listened to her, like Marley Rose and Mike Chang. The one she was most displeased with was Azimio, but that wasn't a surprise.

She posted Puck and Sam to the backdoor. Her mind lingered a bit on the idea that Puck was behind all this, but she decided against pursuing it until she got more concrete evidence and not just a whiff of cologne.

She glanced at her watch and saw that there was still an hour until the show began. Unsurprisingly, Rachel had the opening number _and_ the closing number, which was a rare occasion according to the whispers she heard amongst the audience. She remained on the balcony, keeping an eye on anyone suspicious in the audience.

She heard footsteps behind her but made no move because she knew who it was. The familiar strong click-clack of heels was telling enough. She closed her eyes for a second; bracing herself for the verbal attack she was sure going to receive.

"I don't think you're doing a fantastic job at this bodyguard thing, Fabray," Santana's voice sounded in her ear as she sidled up next to her, leaning against the banister and assuming the same posture Quinn held.

Quinn couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face. "I'm doing it loads better than 'fantastic'," she air quoted. "And if you think I suck, you should've known better the first place, rather than hiring me."

There was a moment of silence where Quinn just mouthed numbers of seats and people and other statistics she ran through her mind.

"I'm sorry," Santana finally apologized.

Quinn's mouth closed and she looked on for another second or two before her head slowly twisted sideway to look at Santana. "What?"

Santana sighed and ran her palm down her face. "I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice strained. "I didn't know things would turn out so bad. I didn't know things were so much more complicated than I originally thought. I took the liberty of putting myself in your current position, and I'm sorry."

The blonde chuckled dryly and covered her face with her hand, shaking her head. Santana stared at her curiously, wondering why she was laughing when she was apologizing. Then Quinn finally heaved and put down her hand. The grin on her face slowly faded and she took a shuddering breath.

"You're so lucky that Brittany is there for you. You're so lucky to have someone who loves you back with you. Do you realize how lucky you are?" Quinn queried, looking at her with a frown.

"I do," Santana answered honestly. "I know I am _very_ lucky because Brittany is light and joy and just…plain happiness, while I'm dark and dangerous and evil. I kept waiting for that day where she'll leave too but…that day didn't come. And I saw _you_ and I just thought…_Damn, this girl is worth every fucking piece of my heart_."

Quinn smiled and pushed herself to a straight standing position. She turned around and smacked a hand on Santana's shoulder. "Glad you know that," she whispered and started walking away. "And apology accepted, bitch," she called back before going down the stairs.

Santana laughed and played with her fingers for a little while longer before noticing someone waving at her out of the corner of her eye. She directed her gaze towards them and saw Brittany standing there with Kurt, waving at her with a grin on her face. The Latina's smile widened and she waved back as she made her way downstairs towards the love of her life.

The bodyguard discarded the empty paper cup into the dustbin and made her way backstage. She was greeted with a scene of chaos where the crew was just in a rush, going everywhere. She shook her head and momentarily wondered how they cope with this kind of work situation before she made a beeline towards the dressing rooms. She walked down the corridors, passing a dozen dressing rooms before she made a right turn to a quiet one on the left with only one door.

She stood in front of her, staring at the name plaque on the door. Embossed in golden scripture, 'Rachel Berry' stood out proudly against the dull green of the door. Her heart swelled up in pride at the thought of Rachel's success, even if it was at the cost of her heartbreak. She let out a breath through her nose and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, silently waiting for Rachel to finish getting ready so she could escort her backstage.

She rested her head against the wall behind her and listened to Rachel doing her vocal runs inside. Her voice was just _so_ glorious and beautiful that Quinn could listen to her all day long and not have any complaints. Her exhaustion nearly overtook her before she heard footsteps coming toward her from the end of the corridor. Her eyes snapped open and she turned abruptly.

A tall, familiar looking man in an all-black suit approached her. He wore an annoying smirk on his face and there was this glint in his eyes that was bordering on creepy. He stopped in front of her and they stared each other for a long moment. Even though he was taller than her, she didn't back down. She never backed down.

"Quinn Fabray, right?" he finally asked. She blinked in shock and blinked twice again as she nodded numbly. His smirk grew and he offered his hand. "Dustin Goolsby, former First Sergeant in Afghanistan, Infantry 603."

That was when it dawned on her. That was why his name sounded familiar to her. That was why he looked familiar to her. He was her officer-in-charge once. He was really strict but he was a great man. He always told her jokes and talked to her more than he did to the other people in her unit. He was also the only one she had told about the letters to Rachel her entire time in the army. The scar on his forehead was still there. It was the remnants of an accident, where he carelessly veered his truck off road and hit a tree.

"Sir," she greeted with a grin and shook his hand firmly.

His smirk turned into a grin and he laughed. "Call me Dustin. We're not in Afghanistan anymore." She nodded and they let go of each other's hands. "So I see you didn't die." They laughed and she nodded, holding out her arms and put them down again. "That's good to know."

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I mean, I know you're the executive producer of the movie. I'm just wondering how a man from the military is now in the entertainment industry."

"I'm not really in the entertainment industry," he said with a shrug. "I just invested in the movie 'cause I thought it will be a good one. And it tells the story of someone in the army and uh…it kind of reminded me of you." She frowned and he grinned. "It's about a gay woman, like you, who left to serve the country. And there's a girlfriend. So…"

There was a pang in her heart and she tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in her throat. "Uh, yeah," she said with a nervous laugh. "But we're…broken up already. Like…you know my story."

"Oh I know," Dustin said. "And I heard that uh…_she's_ in the movie, and you were still smitten and I thought I could help her a little, ya know, in case you…" he trailed off and cleared his throat.

"Oh," she said dumbly and cleared her own throat as she shuffled on her feet. "Thank you for that. I appreciate it. Really, thank you. I can see that her future's a lot brighter now."

Dustin smiled and nodded. "What are you doing here though?"

She tensed and gulped as she looked towards the door. Rachel had stopped singing, she noticed. She cleared her throat and looked back to him with a tense smile.

"Well, you know, she's been getting threatening letters, so Kurt decided to hire a bodyguard. So uh…here I am," she said with a shrug. "It was a good choice because there was a bomb in the trailer two days ago and if I hadn't been there, I think the movie was going to be over before it even got started."

"Are you okay, though?" he asked, voiced laced with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm doing as best as I can. Don't worry, Sir. Um…did you want to talk to her? I think she's gonna be out in a minute."

Just then, the door swung open, revealing Rachel behind it. Quinn's breath hitched in her throat when she saw her. She kept her mouth shut because she wasn't sure what would come out if she opened it. She whimpered soundlessly and tried to look away but she couldn't. She couldn't.

Because Rachel was standing there in a _ridiculously_ short black strapless dress. A delicious amount of her cleavage was showing and Quinn just wanted to reach out, but she kept her hands behind her, clenched in fists. She was sure her palms were indented with moon-shaped dents by now. Rachel's endless legs were concealed by knee-high leather boots and Quinn's brow rose slightly at the mouthwatering view.

_Jesus, Rachel, _her mind whispered as she forced her eyes to stop wandering and focus on Rachel's face._ Stay on her face, you dumb idiot, _she scolded herself.

There was a smile on Rachel's face and she looked surprised when she saw Dustin; but Quinn knew that was a fake look. Rachel was feigning shock. Quinn then realized that Rachel had heard her conversation with Dustin and her heart dropped.

_Shit_.

Rachel and Dustin were talking about something, but Quinn couldn't hear them. She was trying to find a way to run and not face Rachel alone later, but she couldn't. Dustin leaned down to hug Rachel before he walked away, leaving them alone. He looked over his shoulder and nodded curtly at Quinn.

She returned the nod and then looked back at Rachel. The smile on her face was gone, replaced by a forlorn look on her face. Quinn sighed and ran her hand through her hair.

"Uh…you look great," she complimented with a strained smile and Rachel nodded. She was still staring at the blonde and she finally caved. "Okay, what did you hear?"

"You didn't tell Dustin you were doing well," Rachel commented.

Quinn raised her brows. Of all things, she had to focus on _that_. "That's because I'm not. I'm doing as best as I can to not run out of the property or even run out of here so I don't have to see you again and feel painful over and over and over and over and _over_ again."

"Why do you choose to be honest now when you weren't before?" Rachel said with a pained look on her face.

"Because I asked you to not lie to me. I thought I owed you the same courtesy," Quinn answered politely.

"I love you." Quinn squeezed her eyes shut at that and she tried to not lash out at the brunette. "You told me to be honest."

"You weren't."

"Yes, I was. And I _am_ now. I love you."

"Look, can we please not do this?" Quinn snapped, holding her palms out in a defensive stance and staring at Rachel in defeat. "I'm just so done with all the arguments a-and the _constant_ lying a-a-and the constant interruption of my job because of you and I. I'm here to protect you, and that's it. I want us to stop arguing and I just want us to…to talk civilly if needed and stop with all the 'I love you' crap."

"Okay." Quinn looked up in surprise. "You should also know that I overheard you and Dustin. But here's one thing you can't avoid. I am going to make you believe that I love you. And I'm going to gain your trust. And then I'm going to kiss you. After that, we'll conquer the world together."

"Jesus, Rachel," she whined.

"No, Quinn, I'm going to prove to you that I truly do still love you. Come hell or high water, I will make you believe that. But I'll live with the status of friends first. Really casual friends. At least give me that."

Quinn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're so unfair," she said with a reluctant laugh.

Rachel shrugged with a small, sad smile. "Yeah well, I never fight fair."

Quinn chuckled and looked up. "As much as you want to prove it to me, you still have a show. I still have a job. And so, I'm just going to escort you backstage, and then I'll watch you perform whilst looking out for you."

Rachel smiled and nodded. "Alright."

* * *

**what do you think? i don't want them to be like cliche and that they'd go back together immediately without resolving some issues between them, namely trust issues. do you like it? do you hate it? review to tell me!**

**oh and Quinntana had sex! i know some of you are not thrilled but i really really really ship Quinntana, Faberry is still my otp though. now those Finchel shippers won't be able to use "Quinn is not gay" as an excuse anymore yay! also, Rachel's pregnant? god i hope not. Lea did confirmed once that Rachel's not pregnant so let's keep our fingers crossed. plus, i just wanna say I KNEW IT! i've always smelled something fishy about Brody ever since the Britney episode. he just gives me the creeps ew**

**(i'm going to ignore the finchel sex that happened okay?)**

**anyway, i'll see you next time! xoxo**


	9. Guns and Bandages

**hey guys! so i forgot to mention i've changed my penname to diannasbacon. i was Nicole Craft but now i'm diannasbacon. and yay chapter 9 is back! sorry i was late but i had a monthly test and i've tried completing this chapter as soon as possible. thank you for your patience. **

**response to reviews****  
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**Guest: yes, Rachel has more reason to be pissed at Quinn but let's remember she's also a very forgiving human being god knows why. but both of them are at the wrong here. **

**Guest2: yes i watched the episode. and there is always a little gay in Quinn like it's shown throughout the entire series. are you a hater or a lover?**

**Ad3n: she's suspecting a lot of people. yeah, that guy is kinda like A right? haha**

**alright! read, ponder and enjoy.**

**cover image in courtesy of I Was Divided By Zero.**

* * *

It was amazing. Seeing Rachel perform on stage for the first time in four years was a sensational experience. She always knew Rachel was in her true element whenever she was on stage. She never doubted the brunette's talent. She was one in a million and Quinn was glad that someone had seen that as well and successfully fulfilled her dreams.

Quinn stood at very back by the main entrance, her arms crossed behind her as she watched her ex-girlfriend sing her heart out on stage. A tiny smile tugged at her lips as she watched the passion on Rachel's face. She swore she could listen to her for the rest of her life and not regret anything.

She tore her eyes away from the singer on stage and surveyed the auditorium. It was definitely a huge charity show, despite the setup. People from the richest backgrounds were here, men and women alike. Entrepreneurs and successful businessmen filled the room. There were quite a number of gold diggers around as well. They flaunted their jewelry and their wealth, obviously in a silent competition with the others.

She rolled her eyes at their naiveté and had gone back to watching Rachel when an odd movement from someone in the audience caught her eye. Someone was stood up among the seats and was digging into his pants, despite the insistence of the audience behind him to sit down whilst shushing him. He wasn't listening. It was too dark for her to see what he looked like.

She frowned and lifted her fingers to the Bluetooth on her ear. "We have a possible rat. Terminate it," she said lowly, watching the mysterious man warily. "Now," she added.

_Too late_, a voice in her head whispered as the man took out an L-shaped item from the back of his pants. Her eyes widened and she took off like lightning, speeding through the aisle and jumping on stage to grab Rachel just as the gun went off, the sound resonated throughout the auditorium. There was maybe two seconds of silence before someone shrieked and the entire crowd went off running like maniacs.

She lifted her head from the ground and hissed as she felt a pain in her arm. She glanced at it and saw that the bullet had grazed her right forearm. _Damn_ _it_. She disregarded it and turned to the woman she was still covering. She withdrew her arm a little to see Rachel's panicked face. She gulped and nodded at her to assure her before helping her stand up.

"Quinn!" she could hear Sam called.

She swung around and, instead of seeing Sam, she saw four men emerging from the wings of the stage. Her eyes widened and her arms tightened around Rachel. They didn't bother wearing masks but it was obvious by the intense look in their eyes that they were there for Rachel.

"Over my dead body," she whispered and pulled out her gun, ignoring the pain in her arm.

She knew she could never escape four men at a time, not with a person in her arms. She swallowed and quickly tried to think of a solution. They were closing in and she _really_ had to think of something.

"Quinn." She looked down to see Rachel staring at her fearfully. "Just go."

"No," Quinn gritted between clenched jaws without even thinking. "You're nuts if you think I'm gonna leave you here." She tightened her arm and began turning them to face the stage. "Here's what you're gonna do," she finally said, her voice low enough that the four men couldn't hear her. "You're gonna run out as fast as you can. Find Karofsky and go back home. I'll be back before you know it."

"What? No!" Rachel exclaimed, staring at her in horror; not for her own safety but for Quinn's. "It's not going to work!"

"Yes it is," Quinn insisted. She finally looked down; her gun still aimed at the four advancing men. The pain in her arm had turned numb. She stared into Rachel's eyes and took a deep breath. "Trust me," she whispered agonizingly. "Go."

Without further ado, she pushed Rachel down the stage. Luckily, Sam was there to catch her and he nodded at Quinn, simultaneously reassuring her and telling her to be careful. She returned it and looked back at the four imposing figures. One of them, a bald one, looked ready to chase after them but she aimed her gun at him.

"Don't even think about it," she hissed.

They were watching each other closely. Quinn knew in her gut that it wasn't possible for her to beat them. The chances were slim to none. She was one to four of them, and no matter how tough she made herself to be, she was still a woman. Her physical strength would never be enough. As she waited for one of them to make a move, she calculated her chances in her head.

She'd go home with a couple of wounds here and there, but she promised herself she wouldn't get severely injured or killed. No. Rachel still needed her. She had to protect Rachel until the perpetrator was capture. The perpetrator behind today's shenanigans. She huffed and hunched, ready to attack.

In not more than three seconds, all of them rushed her and she expertly deflected their attacks. She punched the first in the stomach while giving the other a kick in the crotch. They grunted and stumbled back. She smirked and quickly backhanded the third one. The back of her hand ached as the bones hit his skull, but her strength was enough to knock him to the ground. Quickly, three of them were already on the floor. She wasn't aware of the fourth when she was taking down the third man, allowing herself to be captured. His arm went around her neck and the other encircled her lower body, trapping her to him.

She grunted and stepped on his foot hard. He howled and let go of her. She quickly swung around and gave him a right uppercut. He tumbled down the stage and landed on the floor on his back. She took the opportunity to run off to the backstage. Only then did she realize that everyone had dispersed. She took a deep breath and hid behind the sound stage, successfully concealing herself from the men who'd gotten themselves cleared up and up on their feet.

She watched warily, her arm in pain and she was sure that guy who caught her just now had slit her stomach a little. She kept an eye on them as she looked down and sure enough, her blouse was ruined with dripping blood. She groaned. She had to get back fast before the wound got infected.

Quinn huffed and struggled to get up on her feet. She crept away from the men, who were still looking for her in every corner. She wouldn't be able to make it out the exit without passing them. Her eyes roamed the area, searching for an alternative route out.

None.

Fucking auditorium was freaking round and there wasn't a place where she could sneak out. She sighed and shook her head as she saw her dropped gun in the middle of the stage, right behind one of the brute forces. She cursed fate and tried to sneak out without making a noise.

A loose floorboard. That was it. It creaked loudly in the empty auditorium with fucking awesome acoustics and drew all the attention to her. She rolled her eyes and cursed again before running in full speed down the stage and through the aisles as gunshots rang out around her. She stumbled when one grazed her shoulder but it didn't stop her. She was just a few feet away from the exit when one of them caught her on her injured shoulder and she yelped, dropping to her knees.

The hand pulled her up and swung her around. Before she knew it, a fist came into her vision and connected with her right eye. She staggered back a couple yards and hissed in pain as a second punch landed on her stomach, tearing open her wound.

"Jesus," she seethed, as she pushed through the pain and hastily wrapped her around the man's head, pulling him down to knock him out with his knee.

He went down and she quickly grabbed the phone that had dropped out of his pocket before hurrying out into the streets. His accomplices wouldn't dare chase her out here. It was too public and they wouldn't want to be arrested. She looked around and noticed people were starting to stare at her weirdly. She covered her stomach wound and leaned against a lamppost, stretching her arm out to hail a cab.

Her vision was starting to blur and her head was dizzy and aching. God, she hadn't been in this much pain since she crashed her plane and had been sent home. Her wounds were literally eating her flesh. She was on her way to face planting on the ground when someone grabbed her elbow and pulled her up again. She felt herself lifted off the ground and she opened her eyes to see who it was.

All she caught was pair of glasses and a swept back hair style before she blacked out.

* * *

She felt bandages all over her and groaned. What the fuck? She didn't need a bandage. Just sew the fucking wounds up and be done with it. Someone was holding onto her hand and she took her hand away. She huffed and opened her eyes all of a sudden, sending all kinds of pain into her head. She ignored it and started to get up, again ignoring the ache in her stomach.

Her body was obviously protesting movement but she refused to yield. She had a job. She refused to let herself succumb to weakness. She was still unaware of her surroundings; she just wanted to get up on her feet and go back to kicking the asses of those who dared to threaten Rachel. The thought of Rachel flashed herself back from her self-induced stubbornness to reality. Her vision cleared and voices started flowing into her auditory nerve.

"Quinn, please."

She swept the room with her eyes wide.

"Quinn."

She wasn't in a hospital. Oh no.

"Quinn, lie down, please."

The coloring was too warm to be a hospital room. The furnishings were also too classy for a hospital.

"Quinn!" The voice was bordering on desperation and she looked to it.

Rachel.

Her eyes were glassy with tears and her lips were quivering. Quinn took a deep breath and swallowed before she swung her legs over the bed and stood up, suppressing the hiss of pain. Her grip on the bed sheet was tight as she slipped her feet into a pair of slippers.

Rachel was her side the next moment, gripping her arm. Quinn groaned and struggled to take it away and get the hell out of this room. It was suffocating her. She cursed at her body for being so weak. She cursed at herself for allowing herself to faint.

But Rachel was being her own fucking self and wouldn't let her go. Quinn looked up at the ceiling and took a few deep breaths before she used all her energy to tear her arm away. Rachel whimpered and her arms were limp by her sides. Quinn tried her best to ignore it and limped to the door.

"I know you think you're weak right now," Rachel whispered painfully. Her steps stopped halfway and she froze on the spot. "But you're not. You're brave. And amazing. And you're beautiful," her voice escalated with each description. "But you're also a human being."

"I think we've established that." Her voice came out hoarse and un-Quinn-like.

"Don't go all defensive on me, Quinn," Rachel snapped as her voice hardened. "I'm trying to act as a friend and help you. I'm reaching my limitations with not being able to touch you places I _should_ be able to touch and take care of you the way I _should_ be taking care of you. I nearly _imploded _when I saw Sebastian fucking Smythe carry you back here like he's your goddamn boyfriend!"

Quinn narrowed her eyes and turned around to face Rachel fully for the first time since she woke up. "Wait, Sebastian brought me home?"

Rachel stared at her slack jawed before she groaned loudly and stomped her foot in true Rachel Berry fashion. "Quinn Fabray!" she exclaimed.

She blinked. "What?" she asked dumbly.

Rachel Berry released a breath in frustration and stuck her hands to her hips. "Can we _not_ talk about him for a minute and just get you in bed? I promised I'd call the doctor once you woke up so please make it easy for me."

Quinn stared at her for a moment before shaking her head and turning around, her hand on the door knob.

"If you open that door, Fabray, I swear to all that's holy I will personally strap you to the bed with the strongest material I can find," Rachel threatened. "Don't challenge me."

There was something in Rachel's voice. Toughness? Anger? Concern? She wasn't sure, but there was _something_ she couldn't quite identify in her still-blurry mind that made her obediently turn around and go back to bed. She kept her gaze away from Rachel choosing instead to look down at her fingers as Rachel tucked her in.

She was still staring at her fingers, contemplating ways to get out of there when Rachel picked up her phone and called the doctor. She was whispering words as if hiding from Quinn – which she was. Quinn lifted her head and frowned at her. What was she keeping from her?

When Rachel hung up the phone, she voiced her question as soon as the brunette sat down on the chair next to the bed.

Rachel stared at her wide-eyed before shaking her head. "Nothing." Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Look, the doctor will be here in a few minutes and he's going to explain it all to you. I was too worried about you to hear what he said."

Quinn nodded and looked away again. She stared at the picture hung on the wall. It displayed a tiny cottage on a hill with colorful flowers and grass. There was a kid among the grass chasing a butterfly. A bright smile was drawn on the kid's face, showing happiness and complete innocence. Quinn wondered how long had it been since she had such a bright smile on her face.

Two knocks sounded on the door and it opened, revealing a white haired, bespectacled man in a gray suit. He was carrying a kit in his hand. He smiled at them and opened the door wider, revealing more people. Santana, Brittany, Kurt and Sebastian. Sebastian had a look on his face that put a smile on Quinn's. He was wearing glasses too.

"Hey, guys," she greeted. Then she nodded at Sebastian. "Good day, sir."

He laughed and shook his head. "Good day to you too, Madam," he replied before slinking to her bedside. He took her hand and bowed down to kiss the back of her it. "So, how're you feeling?"

"Like shit."

"Quinn!"

The blonde rolled her eyes and turned to Rachel. She frowned. Was that jealousy in her eyes? "What did I do now?"

Rachel stammered before huffing and crossing her arms over her chest. "Just stop talking and let the doctor check on you," she mumbled with a scowl. She gestured at the white-haired man. "This is Dr. Kelvin Costner. He treated your wounds with specific care and has been here for twelve hours, waiting for you to wake up. So has everyone actually," she added, throwing a momentary glare at Sebastian before looking away.

Dr. Costner stepped forward, taking Sebastian's place and smiled at her. "Hello, Miss Fabray," he initiated. She nodded at him in response. His smile widened. "Trust me, I don't wanna do this either. But as a doctor, I have to. So," he turned to the crowd and clapped his hands together, "you folks will have to skedaddle so I can check on Quinn, except Miss Berry here."

"What? Why?" Quinn asked before Santana could.

He looked down at her with a curious expression and cleared his throat. "Well, I thought Miss Berry here was…someone close to you. Perhaps your girlfriend?" he said warily.

Quinn's eyes widened and she nearly choked on the air. "What? No," she denied quickly. Rachel had a nervous smile on her face as well. Quinn gestured wildly in the air as she said, "We-we broke up like four years ago so-so no, we're not girlfriends."

"Oh." Dr. Costner's eyes were wider as he realized his mistake. "Well, do you want Miss Berry to accompany you?"

The injured bodyguard spluttered and coughed and spluttered again before she looked at Rachel with wide eyes and saw the hopeful look on her face. Quinn opened her mouth and gulped before looking towards her audience, all sporting identical amused looks on their faces. Quinn groaned inwardly and cursed herself for being such a weakling just because she was injured. What had she become?

She finally turned to the doctor and muttered, "I don't…I don't feel really comfortable…having her – anyone, really – see me in a state of undress."

She knew that it might hurt Rachel but it was the truth. She wasn't comfortable with anyone seeing her almost naked now, regardless of the bandages all over her. She just wasn't comfortable. She kept her eyes on the doctor when Rachel burst.

"What? It's nothing I haven't seen before!"

Santana snorted, earning a glare from Quinn and a nudge from Kurt. Quinn's face was fiery red right now and Rachel seemed to have realized her outburst and blushed. She gulped and took a deep breath, trying to reword her sentence. The doctor watched her expectantly, his mouth twitching as if trying to not laugh.

Rachel sputtered, trying to find a good excuse to stay but couldn't. She just bowed her head in defeat and sighed. She turned to Quinn with a forlorn look and Quinn nearly dissolved and told the doctor to let her stay. But she didn't.

When they were out the door, Dr. Costner put on white gloves and opened his toolkit. He gestured at the blonde and cleared his throat.

"Do you want to do it yourself or do you want me to undress you?" he asked, appearing very professional and without an ounce of discomfort. Guess that's how doctors were now.

Her hands flew to her pajama buttons and she smiled tightly at him. "I'll do it."

He nodded. When she was done, he pulled it open further, revealing her body to him. She thanked whoever it was that helped her had put her in a fresh, new bra. His hands steadily unwrapped the dressing on her stomach and arm before peeling off the gauze on her shoulder.

She hissed when she finally saw the sewn gashes. These certainly were nasty. Those brutes certainly weren't playing a fool when they attacked her. Air invaded the wounds and she clenched her jaw against the pain. She begged silently for the doctor to be quick so she could feel a tad more comfortable again.

He checked the wounds, prodding them and applying disinfectant on them before he covered them with new bandages and gauze. He taped the gauze tightly before motioning for her to button her pajama shirt. He gave her two pain pills from an orange bottle on the bedside table then sat down on the chair, jotting down notes in a chart.

"Those are very nasty gashes," he began and she rolled her eyes, refraining from snapping at him. "I was honestly very shocked when I saw them. They're gonna take more than usual to heal, mind you."

"How long?" she asked.

He calculated it in his mind and released a breath. "Probably around a month if there are no complications such as infections or something other than that. We can't be too sure." He stood up and started placing everything back into his kit. "I'll be back once every week to check on your wounds so you better get used to it. And make sure to not let water touch them. Bandages are waterproof so don't worry. I've already written your medications and asked Miss Berry to fetch them for you. Instructions are in the drawer on the bedside table, so take a look." Then he bowed slightly and said, "Enjoy your day, Miss Fabray."

* * *

Rachel had been incapable of speaking as Karofsky drove her and Sam home. She didn't know where the rest of them were, and despite Rachel's demands for him to stay and wait for them, he drove away. Apparently, Quinn had left him instructions to drive her home and disregard her companions if the situation demanded it.

She managed to pace the floor for thirty-seven minutes before the front door slammed open and footsteps came marching into the living room. Santana, Brittany and Kurt were the first faces she saw and she literally threw herself at them, despite Santana's distaste towards her. She only realized that the most important person she needed to see wasn't there when she searched among the faces in the living room.

Her mouth opened and closed for a few times. Almost all of them had a look on their faces that answered her question with the exception of Azimio and a few other guards. She still had to ask anyway.

"Where's…where's Quinn?" she asked with a nervous laugh. No one verbally responded and she turned to the Latina, who always had something to say. "Santana, where's Quinn?"

Santana swallowed and crossed her arms over her chest, shifting on her feet. "Trust me, I want to know as bad as you do." Her voice was barely a whisper. She sat down on the armchair and ran her hand through her hair.

Rachel's mouth dropped open. Her heart felt like it'd been torn to pieces. What? She stumbled back a few steps and she would have dropped onto her ass if it weren't for Sam, who caught her at the last second. Brittany was barely keeping her tears down and Puck was scuffing the floor, looking at the door every now and then as if Quinn was just going to saunter in any second with that smug look on her face.

Everyone was worried, even Azimio.

Rachel had settled down on the sofa, staring blankly into the space. The security team had already dispersed and went to do their respective jobs. Puck was walking back and forth under the archway leading to the front door. Sam was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

For once, she didn't hear an argument from anyone. There wasn't a sound except for Brittany's sniffles.

Rachel had no idea how long she'd sat there. Every part of her was numb when a walkie-talkie crackled, snatching their attention. Puck took it out from his back pocket and listened to the guard at the gate talk.

"There's a man out here. He claimed that he has someone of utmost importance in urgent need of medical attention in his car. Do I let him in?"

"Is it Quinn?" Rachel asked loudly.

Puck glanced at her before he talked, "Put him on."

"This is Sebastian Smythe. I don't know who I'm talking to but I know this is the Berry mansion. Quinn Fabray is in the back of my car, _bleeding_. Let me the fuck in before I run these goddamn gates down," an angry voice came through.

When the line was passed back to the guard, Puck ordered him to let the guest through. At that point, Rachel was already at the front door, anticipating Quinn anxiously. Soon, a silver car drove up the driveway in full speed and skidded around the fountain and stopped in front of them. The driver's door opened to reveal the bomb guy. Her mood dampened – not that it was good before – but she kept it to herself.

Quinn was her priority now.

The bomb guy – Sebastian, to her understanding – reached in the backseat and she waited, sweat already forming on her forehead when he seemed to be struggling. People who were unconscious were usually deadweights. Was Quinn unconscious now? She walked down a couple of steps and waited as Sam and Puck helped Sebastian.

They finally got her out and an audible whimper escaped her throat when she saw Quinn. Her head was hanging limply over Sebastian's forearm. Her eyes were closed and there was blood all over her. There was a resounding gasp behind her. She hurried after the men as they hastened into the mansion.

"Bring her to the guest room next to my bedroom," Rachel said. It seemed to be the only thing she could say right now.

As everybody went upstairs, Sebastian asked, "Have you called a doctor?"

Rachel's eyes widened. Her heart beat faster as she fumbled for her phone but Kurt cut in, "Yes, I've called the doctor. Dr. Costner will be here in twenty."

Rachel made a note to thank Kurt later. She opened the door to the guest room and watched as they deposited Quinn onto the bed. The blanket was long forgotten on the floor as they watched Quinn breathing shallowly for awhile.

"We need to stop her bleeding," Santana voiced, channeling into her nursing mode. She had minored in nursing during college. "All of you, leave. I'll take care of her."

"I want to help," Rachel interjected.

Santana huffed and rolled up her sleeves. "Fine. Brittany and Berry get to stay. You dudes need to get the hell out." The guys shuffled out the room reluctantly. Then Santana settled into her leader mode and began barking orders at them to fetch wet towels and the first aid kit.

Dr. Costner arrived just as Santana finished cleaning the wound on Quinn's stomach. He nodded in appraisal when he saw the job she'd done. Then he began to tend to the wounds with a more practiced and precise care. Rachel was blurry through the process, just worrying about Quinn's wellbeing.

She didn't know how long it had been when Dr. Costner finally applied bandages to the wounds. She didn't know how long it took them to dress her in fresh clothes. She did know how long she had stayed at Quinn's bedside before she had awakened

Six hours. Six hours without sleep or food. Six hours of her imagination running rampant. Six hours of fearing that Quinn would just fade away. Six hours of plain terror about what was going to happen.

She'd made a lot of decisions in six hours. She decided that she would really do all she could to salvage their destroyed relationship. She decided that she also had to respect Quinn's boundaries. She'd decided that she would thank Quinn with all she had when she woke up. And she _would_. Rachel knew she would.

Sebastian had refused to leave, which only agitated Rachel more. He obviously noticed her glares but he didn't care.

They had all taken turns, checking to see if Quinn had finally woken up; and she finally did and _god_, Quinn's insistence on getting out of bed added more to her agitation and concern. She _knew_ why Quinn was being so cold and distant and stubborn. But that didn't excuse anything. So she snapped. She was glad that she still had it in her to force Quinn to obey her.

Now, they stood outside the door as Dr. Costner checked on Quinn. She leaned against the wall next to the door, one of her legs against the wall and her arms crossed over her torso. She spent the entire time glaring at Sebastian, which the guy pointedly ignored. She knew she was letting jealousy consume her mind. She knew instead of hating him, she should thank him for bringing Quinn back. She knew all this; but really, she just _couldn't_ help it.

"Will you please stop staring at me like I did something despicable?" Sebastian finally snapped, returning her glare.

She huffed. "Who knows what you've done?" she muttered under her breath, shifting her gaze to the carpeted floor.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Oops.

She sighed and looked back at him. "It means you're a stranger to me. I don't know you. And frankly, neither does Quinn. You might act all kind and courteous, but who knows what you did or what you're going to do?"

Sebastian stepped away from the wall and clenched his jaw. "I brought her here, knowing that she should be brought to the hospital because I knew you guys needed to see her. I didn't even have an inkling of a perverted thought in my mind when I was driving her here. I was – still am – concerned with her safety. Also, what I'm going to do is none of your business."

"I don't believe you," Rachel retorted.

He let out a sardonic chuckle and shook his head. "You are so naïve, Miss Berry." His sarcastic grin vanished after. "I'll admit that I do have feelings for Quinn. But let me ask you, who _wouldn't_?" She blinked at him. He raised a brow at her and nodded. "Glad you know that. So before you go all bitch town on me, you should really wield your jealousy on everyone that's met her before."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh doesn't it? You don't like me merely for the fact that I have feelings for Quinn and she's being friendlier to me than she is with you. And really, after this, I really would understand why."

"Mr. Smythe – "

"She still chose _you_ over me," Sebastian cut in. She froze at his words, eyes wide and mouth hung open. "I asked her out and she shot me down. Of course, she didn't actually tell me that she's still crazily hung up on you. But I can see it in her eyes, alright? _You_ manifested the pain in them. _You _made this happen. So excuse me, but if she's happy being friends with me, why can't you let her be?"

The hallway was stunned into silence. Everyone was watching the both of them, absorbing what was just said. Rachel was totally shocked into a speechless state. Her eyes stayed on Sebastian as she evaluated his words. Then he realized he was right. Quinn was happy being his friend. She'd repeatedly told her that there was nothing between them and Rachel didn't believe her. Suddenly, she wanted to smack herself on the forehead for being so stupid.

"Well, to be honest, it's not entirely Rachel's fault," Kurt interrupted warily.

Sebastian's eyes stayed on her as he replied, "I don't care. I only know Quinn. I don't know Miss Berry. So I'm standing on her side no matter what."

Kurt cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together. "Yeah, okay, we get that. But um…don't you think now is really not the appropriate time for an argument to occur? So why don't you at least make peace and let us hear the doctor's verdict?"

The door swung open at that moment and the doctor stepped out, closing the door behind him. He explained everything to them, then told them that Quinn had taken painkillers and was pretty fuzzy at the moment. Kurt followed him out to pay him for his services when the rest of them went back inside the room.

And dear lord, the painkillers sure were strong.

Quinn was mumbling gibberish for fifteen minutes before she finally gave in to sleep. All of them just stayed there, standing or sitting in separate corners in the room. Finally, they were able to look at her sleep in peace and not to worry about her whereabouts or safety for the moment.

And Rachel guessed, this was moment when Quinn's importance to everyone in the room was proven.

* * *

**what do you think? i realized that the response to the last chapter wasn't very good and i'm wondering if you guys didn't like it. but still, you can tell me if you don't like it. i'll do my best to make it better. so reviews?**

**"stay away from my future wife!" like gross, ew. no Finn no.**

**see ya next chapter!**


	10. Salvation in Process

**hello fellow readers! i know i'm late but i'm sorry. at least i wasn't _awful_ late, right? so this is the update! more mystery, i don't know if you would call it drama though. no action. i feel like i should give them all a little reprieve from what happened before. **

**response to reviews**

******guest1: not all things are Quinn's fault though.**

**caffeinecrazy: i think you might like this chapter.**

**guest2: that's good. i don't want anyone to know who the perpetrator is haha**

**redroseangel27: hmm...maybe**

**ad3n: everyone else were cowards. Quinn dropped her gun. no she's not ashamed. she's just uncomfortable.**

**Anonymous Fan Viewer: thank you! hope you enjoyed it.**

**okay, now that that's over with. read, ponder and enjoy.**

* * *

She lost her image with the team in a span of two weeks. And it was all because of everyone's fault. She had been injured. She had bandages around her. No big deal. She couldn't understand why everyone – Rachel, Santana, Brittany, Puck, Sam, Sebastian, even Kurt – was making such a big deal out of it.

She wasn't allowed out of bed for the first four days. Finally, she put her foot down and threatened them with a hunger strike if they wouldn't allow her to go back to the pool house and survey the recordings of the security cameras on her laptop. She regretted the decision as soon as she saw the wheelchair Puck rolled in.

"I can walk!"

"You're still sitting in the wheelchair," Rachel said. When Quinn wanted to argue, Rachel gave her a glare that shut her mouth. "You can go back to the pool house. But you're going back in the wheelchair. At least for today."

Honestly, Quinn wasn't handicapped! She could walk perfectly. It wasn't her legs that were injured, it was her upper body! Who used the upper body to _walk_? She was ready to point it out when Santana stuck her fingers in her ears, indicating that she didn't want to hear any arguments.

Quinn was extremely unhappy at the arrangements. She had been through much worse when she was in the army. This was a piece of cake.

"I've been through much worse in the army," she said as Sam deposited her on the bed and offered her the laptop.

Her friends – for two weeks, they were her mortal enemies – surrounded her, with the exclusion of Sebastian and Kurt, who were busy with their work duties. They each offered their own signature glare but she refused to back down.

"I've been shot and stabbed before, okay? I've even been in a crash! This is nothing!" she argued.

"Yeah well, this is _not_ the army," Rachel voiced. "You're on my property. You're under my employment. You went through all of that to save me. I want you to take time to heal; as long as it takes. Puck and Sam can handle your job for now."

That was the thing; Quinn didn't trust Puck. She couldn't. Not for the time being. She still hadn't made her inquires with the store where he bought his cologne. She supposed she would just trust Sam, as inexperienced as he was.

Rachel routinely made her appearance every day for the next two weeks. Quinn tried hiding in the garage once, only to have Rachel storm in, smile at Karofsky, then drag the blonde out to the back and into the pool house. She lectured Quinn for thirty whole minutes, stating that the whole point of _healing_ was to _not_ wander around the house, exposing herself to the bacteria outside.

She was finally allowed out of the pool house after two weeks. She immediately gathered her team in the kitchen. They all looked tired and sloppy and she grimaced. God, what had become of them while she wasn't able to supervise them? Santana, being her annoying as fuck self, sat in the corner watching her.

"Did any of you manage to track prints on my jacket?" she asked them, but she was pointedly staring at Mike. They were quiet. "_Did you_?"

Azimio rolled his eyes. "Yes. We found a set of prints. They belong to Dustin Goolsby."

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her. She turned to him abruptly with wide eyes. "Dustin Goolsby?" she repeated. Then she remembered. "Oh no, we ran into each other before the incident. He was my officer when I was in the army."

Azimio shrugged. "Well, that's the only set we found."

She nodded. "Did anything unusual happen when I wasn't around?" she said, gritting her teeth at the last three words. Santana snickered and Quinn turned to glare at her. She smirked at Quinn. The blonde rolled her eyes and turned back.

"Nope. Just the usual crew," Marley interjected. "I can bring you the visitors' log if you want."

Quinn smiled and nodded gratefully. "That'd be great. Thank you. So will anything special happen this week?"

"We're going to be onset every day. So if you don't feel like it, you can stay in bed," Azimio ended his statement with a smirk.

Quinn froze and her eyes locked with Azimio. "What do you mean?"

His smirk stayed as he said, "I think you know what I mean."

"Hey!" They turned to see that Santana had stood up and was standing next to Quinn against the island. "You don't get to talk shit like that, big guy." Azimio looked ready to defend himself but Santana held up a finger with an intimidating stare. "To be honest, _none_ of you get to talk shit like that. If it weren't for sweet Quinn here fighting those grade-A assholes, you wouldn't be standing here breathing the same air as her. You picked your sorry asses up and fled the goddamn scene. You left her alone there and now you're blaming her for staying in bed?"

"If she was doing her job right, she wouldn't need to stay in bed for two freaking weeks," Azimio said with a laugh. "She's weak!"

"Excuse me?" This time, it wasn't Santana who said it but a new addition in the room, Rachel. She had her arms crossed and she was staring at Azimio, brow slightly raised. "Did I just hear you say that Quinn is _weak_?"

"Guys," Quinn interrupted. "Stop fighting. We need to get on set. So, skedaddle. Go prepare. I'll handle things." Rachel looked ready to protest but Quinn gave her a pointed look. "I said I'll handle it. Go prepare yourselves."

Rachel huffed and stormed away, leaving them to themselves again. Quinn took a deep breath and stepped closer to Azimio. "Just because I was injured and I wasn't here for two weeks doesn't mean I haven't been doing my job," she said lowly. "I don't care if you don't like my absence, I don't care if you and your team are displeased with me, but I'm still the head of this security team and I get the power. So you better _shut up_ before I do it for you."

Azimio clenched his jaw and pointed a finger at her. "I'm not afraid of you."

Her face contorted at the stench of his breath on her face. "I don't care. I'm still the boss. So now, be good and go prepare the cars and everything else. We move out in half an hour.

The man huffed and turned on his heels to face the team. "Alright, dweebs! You heard the boss! Go!" he ordered, clapping his hands a few times to emphasize his orders.

They scurried out of the room. Quinn stopped Marley on her way out. "I'd appreciate it if you could grab the log for me now so I can look at it while we wait for her highness to finish preparing," she said with an appreciative smile.

Marley nodded. "Yes, ma'am. And uh…don't mind Adams. He's a jerk like that," she added before heading out to follow Quinn's request.

Quinn laughed and glanced at the door Marley left through. "Please don't tell me you're attracted to that blue-eyed pack of innocence." She turned to Santana who was staring at her with a bored expression. "She's not your type."

"You don't know what my type is," Quinn replied, crossing her arms.

"Oh I know. Trust me, I know. I've seen you pick up girls more than I should and a majority of them are dwarfs with big nose and big brown eyes that just gross me out," Santana described with a teasing smile.

Quinn faltered. She set her jaw firmly and said, "Like you said, a _majority_ of them. Doesn't mean I don't like tall girls with blue eyes. She's pretty."

Santana scoffed and moved to stand next to Quinn. "But, you will _always_ love the midget. Isn't that right, Q?"

The blonde gave a self-depreciating smile and scuffed her toes against the tiles of the kitchen. "Don't remind me," she said. "Allow me to have my own fantasy once in awhile, Lopez."

"You _are_ allowed fantasies. Just don't think they're real," Santana retorted. "Anyways, I gotta wake Britts up. I've always wanted to see what a filming location looks like. I heard their food is amazing." She smirked at Quinn before walking out to the foyer.

Quinn laughed and sat herself on the stool. She palmed the back of her jeans where her new gun was tucked away. Her old one hadn't been found; seemed like the attackers took it. She nodded to herself in assurance as her hand grazed the handle. She tapped her fingers on the island top, idly ticking away the moments. She'd been there for two minutes when her phone buzzed. She took it out and eyed the contact curiously.

_Private number_.

She frowned and opened the text. Her eyes widened.

_Seems like an army veteran can't cut it. Are you sure you're suited for this job?_ _Like I said, you can't protect her forever_.

She read the text repeatedly. Who the hell was this? How did they even get her number? She slipped down the stool and stormed out the back door, her phone in her hand. Marley was on her way to the kitchen and she grinned when she saw Quinn.

"Quinn! Here's the log," she said, handing it to Quinn.

The blonde offered a distracted smile and took the log with a grateful nod before storming past Marley and to the garage where everyone was gathered. She scanned the space and easily found Mike, the tech guy. She made a beeline towards him and he looked up from his laptop, surprised at her approach.

"What can I help you with?" he asked after a moment.

"Can you track a private number?" Quinn asked, offering her phone to him.

He took it and glanced at her before looking down at the text displayed on the screen. She watched as his posture stiffened and his Adam's apple moved as he swallowed. His eyes ran over the text a few more times before he looked back up at her with a serious expression on his face. He nodded.

"I'll do my best. I need time," he said, not waiting a moment to fish out some sort of wire. One side was inserted it into one of the USB ports of the laptop, the other end into her phone. "I'll have it tracked as soon as possible."

She nodded. "Thank you."

She swung around and went to Kurt, ignoring Sam and Puck's curious looks and Azimio's scowl. Kurt was speaking – or rather barking – into his Bluetooth earpiece as he scribbled and crossed and scribbled again and again on his clipboard. She tapped his shoulder and he turned around to face her. He held up a hand but she shook her head insistently.

_Urgent_, she mouthed.

He frowned at her and sighed, telling whomever he was speaking to that he would call back as he directed his full attention to her. "What is it?"

"I don't think it's safe for Rachel to go onset today," she whispered. He looked ready to protest. "I just got a text from a private number warning me that I can't protect her forever. Just like the letter I got last time when I moved here."

"Wait, what letter?" he said with narrowed eyes.

She stammered and then waved her hands dismissively. "Doesn't matter. What matters now is the text. For two weeks there was nothing, and now we receive a text _today_. They obviously know that I'm ready to go and we're going onset."

"Look, even if I agree with you, the producers won't agree to it. The film has gone over budget because Rachel's been skipping days over the past two weeks to take care of you. She _needs_ to go today, tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow and so on to get this movie filmed as quickly as possible. We can't afford to pay for her absence anymore."

"She's in _danger_," Quinn stressed.

Kurt stared at her seriously. "I _know_ that. Don't you think I want her to stay at home until the damn perpetrator is captured? I do! But this industry is not as kind and forgiving as you think they are. They're cutthroat and all they want is money. They don't care." He sighed and she could see his grip on his clipboard tighten. "Look, all we can do now is tighten the security, okay? Keep a close watch on her. And we all know you offer the best security alone. So I suggest you stay with her throughout the entire filming process. I have to warn you though, it's going to be a long day today."

She kept her gaze on him as she ran through everything in her head. She surveyed the room to see the team watching them. Rachel was already in the car, a concerned look overtaking her features as she watched. Quinn's eyes lingered on her before she turned back to Kurt with a nod.

"Fine," she snapped. She didn't mention that her wounds hadn't fully healed. She didn't mention that she was still taking medications. She knew despite all of that, she would still offer her life to save Rachel's. "Get in the car. We're moving."

She rounded the sedan and slid in next to Karofsky. When she got the signal that they were all ready, she nodded at Karofsky. He returned it and began driving. She could hear Rachel and Kurt whispering at the back but she couldn't bring herself to care. She still had to think about the best way to secure the entire lot without leaving an external loophole, which quite frankly, was harder than anyone ever thought.

* * *

They've been onset for two hours. She kept getting updates via walkie-talkie from everyone in the team as they did their patrol. Puck was with her watching Rachel. She still wasn't confident enough in letting him be by himself.

Mike was still working on her phone. She had been checking with him between intervals to see if he had any progress with the number. Apparently, the perpetrator was very careful and an expert at hiding his trail. He had set up a safety system behind the number, with a string of codes that weren't going to be easily cracked

She explained the situation and new duty arrangements to her team during a quick briefing upon their arrival to the set. She kept a close eye on Puck while she spoke, but he seemed unfazed and his actions gave no indication that he was the man behind all of this.

The crackle from her walkie-talkie snapped her out from her line of thoughts and she listened to the usual update from one of the team. The moment the report was done, her name was shouted, echoing across the lot. She turned to see Dustin Goolsby approaching her with a huge grin on his face.

She smiled at him and was surprised when he engulfed her in an embrace. Once she got over her shock, she took a sniff and she tensed. He let go and grinned down at her, sticking his hands into his pockets. She disguised her suspicion with pure shock.

"I didn't know you were onset, sir," she said, her octave slightly higher than usual.

He laughed and waved his hand dismissively. "I said call me Dustin. I'm not your officer anymore," he reminded her. "I just wanna see what I missed when I wasn't around. I also had to write a check to replenish the budget status. Not that I'm complaining."

He _was_ complaining. She could see the displeasure in his eyes and the edge in his voice told her he wasn't very happy with the news.

"So how are you, Quinn? I haven't seen you around in two weeks. I heard you were injured that night at the charity event. Yikes," he said, clucking his tongue. "Those guys need to be put behind bars for doing this and threatening a cast member on my set."

_His _set? Her eyes narrowed slightly but not enough to make him notice. "I'm good. I'm still walking and moving so I'm good."

He nodded with a tight smile and then gestured in the air. "Anyway, I gotta go. I have a meeting later to discuss my latest investment on a new estate. I'll talk to you if we run into each other, okay?" He didn't even wait for her reply before he walked away.

She watched him cautiously. He was absolutely different from the Dustin Goolsby she knew in Afghanistan. From what she remembered, he was never this…anxious about money. And he wasn't this possessive. There also seemed to be this aura around him that disconcerted her; she wondered how she didn't notice the last time they met. And also, how had she missed the scent of his cologne?

"Care to tell who that was?" Puck drawled from beside her. "You two look friendly."

"He was my officer when I was in Afghanistan." She finally turned to Puck from Dustin's disappearing figure. "He was the best officer I had within my four years of service."

He raised his brows and nodded. "Good for you. Hey, can I go and grab something? I'm starving." The words weren't out of his mouth when his stomach growled and Quinn laughed, nodding her approval.

When he was gone, she quickly scanned the area, trying to locate Santana. She didn't see her anywhere. _Damn it_. She didn't have her phone with her. She looked around the set where Rachel, in uniform, was still filming a scene with a fake AK-47. Quinn had to admit that Rachel looked absolutely hot in that outfit. She shook her head to shake the thought out and jogged towards Kurt, trying to be as unnoticeable as she could.

"I need your phone," she whispered in his ear. He jumped and turned in surprise. "I need your phone," she repeated.

"Yeah well, you can at least tell me you're right here instead of jumping on me like a creep," he whispered back harshly as he offered his phone. "Here!"

She took it and dialed Santana's number. It took two rings for Santana to answer her phone. "What?"

"Where the hell are you?" she hissed.

"Eating. Brittany was hungry. We're heading back now though. What do you want?"

Quinn looked around to see if anybody was listening. When she was sure nobody was eavesdropping, she cupped her mouth with her hand and whispered, "I need you to call a cab and get out of here to go to the store in city."

"What store?"

"The cologne store. The one where Puck's cologne was sold."

There was a pause before a "Why?" came through the line.

"Turns out Puck isn't the only one wearing SG7." She licked her lips and closed her eyes in an attempt to block out the possible reality. _Come on_, Dustin was her officer. She was fond of him. She couldn't bear the thought of him doing something as terrible as this. "My officer from before, you know, Dustin Goolsby?" There was a hum of understanding. "I could smell it on him when he hugged me just now."

"So you're saying that your ex-officer, the one you kept praising about how nice and amazing he was, he uses that cologne too." She spun on her heels to see Santana and Brittany standing behind her. "Am I right, Q?"

Quinn nodded and managed a breathless "Yeah."

Santana hummed and leaned back on her heels. "Well, aren't things just getting more and more like _Pretty Little Liars _here? With the text and the letters and the attacks."

"It's not time for joking, Santana," Quinn gritted between her teeth. "Can you do this for me?"

Santana nodded and rolled her eyes. "This place is boring the hell out of me anyway. The food isn't really that good. I'm so firing the agent who told me that when I get back to DC."

Quinn raised her brow at Santana. "Do you really think this is relevant to our current situation?" she deadpanned.

"Whatever. I'm calling a cab. I'll call you if I get any news." Santana grabbed Brittany's hand and walked out. "I can handle this. Don't worry," she said without looking back.

Suddenly, Quinn was grateful that Santana decided to take a long-term visit here. She certainly was helpful in situations like these.

* * *

"Dustin Gordons. That was the alias he used when he bought the cologne. Or I think it is. But the young man's description of the buyer is pretty goddamn accurate. I don't know if he has super eyes or what but he said tall, neat haircut, an all-black suit, a Bluetooth earpiece and all that."

Quinn kept her eyes on Rachel. They had moved outdoors to film one of the scenes and the sun was shining right down on them. She was practically sweating all over. She whipped out her handkerchief and dabbed at her forehead.

"And uh…Puck?" she asked.

"Oh yeah, that guy. He hasn't been there since five months ago. I think he stopped using it. But Puck didn't disguise anything. He used his own name when he bought the cologne. Good thing they keep a logbook on the buyers or we'd be at a dead end again."

Quinn hummed and saved the new info in her phone. She put her phone back to her ear and shoved her free hand into her pocket. "Thanks for the help, S. I'll see what I can do."

"Wow, Quinn Fabray thanking me. Now isn't that a surprise?" Santana teased.

"I've been thanking you for my whole life, S," Quinn retorted, rolling her eyes in response. She caught Rachel's eyes from across the set as she was discussing something with Artie. Rachel smiled shyly at her which Quinn returned after a moment of hesitation. "Anyway, I gotta go. Job perks."

"Thank fuck I'm not involved in the blue collar department," Santana grumbled.

"Wait, this is blue collar?"

"Well, you're doing all the running and jumping and checking, right? While I'm just here relaxing with my dearest girlfriend."

Quinn frowned at her logic – if she could even call it logic. She shook her head and bade a quick goodbye before hanging up. Rachel was making a beeline towards her by the time she had looked back up from the notes saved in her phone. Quinn was a little shocked at how close Rachel had gotten while she wasn't looking.

Shit, she really had to up her game.

She tucked the phone into her pocket and took a small step back so she wouldn't be so close to Rachel. It was distracting and she certainly didn't need a distraction now. She mustered a small smile in Rachel's direction and then surveyed the surroundings, not meeting Rachel's eyes.

"So, how do you feel?" Quinn looked back to see the concern and curiosity written all over her face. Rachel raised her eyebrows, silently asking her to elaborate. "You know, you just got out of bed and you won't stay at the mansion to rest because you're a stubborn fuckhead…" Quinn's eyes widened, her brows shooting to the top of her forehead with surprise. Rachel realized her slip and she huffed, running her hand through her hair in frustration. "God, I've been spending too much time with Lopez."

Quinn smirked at the use of Santana's last name; A classic Santana trait was addressing people by their last names. "Clearly." A smile stretched on Rachel's lips when she saw the smirk on Quinn's face. Quinn uncrossed her arms and let them hang limply at her sides. "And if you're asking if I feel anything other than normal, then no. I'm perfectly fine."

Rachel's smile widened, initially pleased with the answer; but she needed reassurance. "Are you sure? 'Cause I couldn't help but notice this look on your face, like you were uncomfortable or something just now," she trailed off, realizing that she had just admitted to visually stalking Quinn.

The smirk on Quinn's face expanded into an appreciative smile. "I'm okay," she said, nodding at Rachel. "You don't have to worry. All you need to do now is go ahead and finish this film and let it wow everyone who watches it."

"You really believe in me that much?" Rachel asked with a tilt of her head.

"I believe in your talent." They both knew what that statement meant. It meant Quinn was still learning to trust Rachel. It meant Rachel's chance was still slim. It also meant Quinn still had deep feelings for Rachel. "I think Mr. Abrams wants you back." She pointed over Rachel's shoulder.

Rachel glanced over her shoulder and sure enough, Artie was there looking at her expectantly. She smiled at him with a nod before turning back around. She bit her lip and Quinn gulped. _Stop biting your lip please_, her mind whispered. _Oh God, oh God_, she chanted inwardly, clenching and unclenching her hands as she struggled to not reach out and grab Rachel and lay her lips on her.

Rachel hesitated and then asked, "Can I…can I hug you?" She watched as Quinn stiffened and she cleared her throat. "I mean, you don't have to but I just…I missed you and I've been trying to not kiss you ever since you came and I can't…I want to at least touch you."

The blonde stared at her and then sighed, defeated. Who was she to reject Rachel? She just couldn't. She smiled at her and opened her arms wide, wiggling her fingers. Rachel grinned and stepped into her embrace and _oh dear God_.

Quinn had missed this. God, she had missed this for God knows how long and she felt so safe and peaceful with Rachel's arms around her. Her eyes watered but she pushed it back as she buried her face in Rachel's hair and subconsciously kissed the top of her head. And there it was; the Rachel Berry smell. It was indescribable, but it felt like heaven.

"I don't wanna let go," Rachel finally whimpered, burying her nose deeper into her neck and tightening her arms around the blonde's waist. This was so painful and yet so blissful all at the same time. "I don't wanna let go," she whimpered.

Quinn's heart tightened and soared at Rachel's words. Maybe that was the moment. She didn't know; except that suddenly she felt like she could relax and just let go of the rope that she had been holding onto for dear life and just fall in hopes that Rachel would catch her. If she wasn't wrong, this was what they called _trust._

_Do I trust her yet? Will she break my heart again? _Her mind circled around these questions as she tightened her arms around Rachel.

The world came back to her as she opened her eyes; Artie's impatient face being the first thing she saw. Quinn released a breath before she slowly withdrew her arms from around Rachel and stepped back, tucking a strand of stray hair behind her ear.

"Artie is going to spit fire if you don't go now," she reminded the crestfallen brunette. "And I'll be here. Just like always," she added.

Rachel turned back to her and smiled. "Thank you, Quinn." She trotted back to the set and sat down in one of the chairs to let her makeup team, Kurt, fix her makeup.

Quinn's arms hung limply by her sides. She smoothed her palms over her thighs and watched as Rachel transformed into another woman and began reciting lines in front of the camera. The feeling of Rachel pressed against her body was lingering against her alabaster skin.

For once, Quinn didn't want to forget.

* * *

It was ten thirty in the evening when they finally reached the mansion. They parked the cars in the garage and slowly and tiredly made their way into the mansion to grab replenishments. Part of the security team had already bade goodnight, since they weren't on duty that evening. The other half were grumbling and hastening to make coffee.

Quinn saw the pool house lights were switched on and she trotted towards it with a frown. Who would be in the pool house if she weren't even there? Then she saw a tall figure with blonde hair dancing in the living room floor and her anxiety vanished. She smiled and opened the door to hear music flowing from the stereo. Brittany was dancing in the middle of the floor while Santana was on the sofa with a beer in hand, watching her girlfriend with a smile on her face.

They turned when they heard the door opened. Santana stood when she saw Quinn, and Brittany skipped towards her, engulfing her in a bear hug. Quinn laughed and hugged the girl back. She couldn't help but think that this wasn't as nice as hugging Rachel.

"We couldn't figure out how to turn on the TV," Santana said when they released each other.

Quinn rolled her eyes and showed them how to work the TV. Brittany squealed and jumped onto the couch with excitement, her eyes glued to the screen where SpongeBob was being his usual self, annoying Squidward. Quinn straightened and tilted her head toward the kitchen, silently asking Santana to join her there. Santana nodded and followed behind.

Quinn watched as Santana threw the can of beer into the garbage can. "You owe me a can," Quinn remarked.

"Relax, I bought it on my own. Puck and Sam warned me about how freaking stingy you are."

Quinn smiled and nodded. "So, what do you have for me?"

"Well, first, you can thank me, _again_. Feels nice to hear you say it." Quinn rolled her eyes and Santana laughed. Abruptly, she turned serious as she fished a flash drive out from her pocket. "Here. I used my badge to make them get me a copy of their database. Everything was in it. I also ran the system on Dustin Goolsby. Everything's on there as well. I don't know what you usually do with this stuff, but I hope you can find whatever it is you're looking for."

The bodyguard took the flash drive and twirled it in her hand. "Thanks," she said. Santana smirked and looked ready to tease her when Quinn raised a finger to silence her. "Do you want coffee?"

"Nah," Santana rejected with a wave of her hands. "Me and Britts are going to sleep. I'm exhausted. You stay here and keep being the vampire you are. Don't become a panda though." She made a peace sign before telling Brittany that they were going to bed. Brittany waved goodbye at Quinn as they left.

Puck and Sam came in shortly after. Quinn was sitting at the island, nursing a can of beer. The boys wore matching grins on their faces and greeted with Quinn loudly before they took turns in the shower and readied for bed. By the time they were snoring their heads off, it was already twenty minutes past midnight.

Quinn looked down at the flash drive in her hand. Maybe this would prove Puck's innocence. Or maybe it would just exacerbate her suspicion of him.

* * *

**so, love it or hate it? review to tell me?**

**and i haven't watched the latest episode. i'm about to and frankly, i'm terrified. i mean, there's bram and all that. it just scares me. is it good? you know what? i'll find out myself.**

**and oh my god, no more Quinn for the rest of the season! can you believe it? i swear this show is just getting to me!**

**i guess i've done enough rambling. tell me how you feel about this chapter. i'll also take all your suggestions into consideration. until then, see you next chapter!**


	11. Slipped

**okay first of all, i apologize. really, i apologize. i know it's been a month or more but i have a good reason. i had an exam month, like a freaking month. so i took the month off from writing. but as soon as i'm done with the exams, i got right to writing. i know i owe it to you. again, i'm really sorry.**

**warning, there are some gross details at the end of the chapter and you might wanna slaughter me for it.**

**response to reviews**

**ILoveDiannaAgron: Dianna signed to guest star in season 5. ain't life great? :-)**

**paulita0814: thank you for deciding to read this anyway **

**Rachyyy: and then i ruined it again for not updating**

**Guest: oh**

**ArmadilloPretzels: "We're through! :)"**

**CR00: she got rid of it**

* * *

Four days passed in the blink of an eye. So far, nothing significant had happened except for the text. Mike tracked it to a prepaid phone, making the lead useless.

Who would get a prepaid phone if they weren't going to dispose of it after usage?

In between going onset and working on updating security measures, Quinn ran investigations on every clue she could find. She ran some background on Puck, because as close as they were, she had still missed four years. Sam's suspicion was heightening every second and she knew she would have to tell him eventually. For now, she'd just keep it on hold.

Dustin Goolsby was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't seen him since the day she had smelled the cologne on him. She didn't want to have to lay suspect on her ex-superior, but she had to.

It was her job.

It also Rachel's safety.

Despite Santana being her "boss", she had the Latina run errands for her; though they were more like discreet investigations. Santana always appeared reluctant and complained a lot, but she was willing to help because she knew how important this was to Quinn. Everything regarding Rachel Barbra Berry was important to Quinn.

Her…friendship with Rachel had improved slightly. The hug that day seemed to have formed a fragile bridge between them. They could relax slightly around each other. Just slightly. Quinn could look across the room and meet her eyes and actually feel good. She still remembered how it felt to have Rachel in her arms after four years of emptiness and longing. She remembered how great a relief it was when she finally had her in her arms, even if it was for only ten minutes.

Quinn was relieved that they had reached this point after their previous obstacle. She still couldn't fully trust Rachel yet, but she was getting there, and she hoped Rachel could trust her as well.

At that exact moment, at five minutes passed one in the morning on a Saturday, Quinn was leaning against her headboard with her laptop on her lap. She had the flash drive inserted into a USB port and she was reading through Puck and Goolsby's data for the umpteenth time since Santana had handed it over to her. She jotted down notes but they all seemed minor and unimportant. They were basically clean.

Her heart felt weighted with guilt over actually suspecting her best friend and her former officer; one of the rare officers who treated her as an equal instead of a weak woman. However, she refused to let guilt blind her rationality. She needed to think rationally and logically. She had to get things to _make sense_.

Because nothing did.

Nothing made sense to Quinn.

She read through her notes once again, made more hypotheses, which she eventually invalidated, made inferences; she had come at this from all angles and still found no lead. The perpetrator was very precise with their plans. There wasn't a single fault found with the exception of the cologne.

Quinn shut her laptop and let out a groan. She needed fresh air, and she was going to get it no matter how late it was. She could probably find someone currently on shift and maybe have a talk with them. She didn't care. She just needed fresh air. She had been staring at that laptop for too long. She let out a breath and locked her laptop before she got out of bed and pulled on a sweater.

She paused at the front door and threw her head back to see Puck and Sam. They were sprawled on their respective mattresses, snoring like the loudest pigs to have ever existed. They were her best friends; she still couldn't believe she doubted one of them.

"Please don't let it be you. Please," she whispered brokenly as she stared at Puck's sleeping form before slipping out of the pool house.

She wrapped her arms around herself, as if the gesture could shield her from the cold air. She looked around her and slowly walked up the pathway to the back of the mansion. She could see that some guards were patrolling and she nodded to herself approvingly. They were actually doing their jobs. She raised her hand as a motion of peace when one of them turned to her with his flashlight. He nodded and continued on his way.

She rounded the mansion towards the fountain and sidelined to the yard, where green grass seemed to spread for miles marble statues stood in a neat arrangement. She stroked some of them on the heads as she walked forward, with no direction entirely.

Then she heard a rustle behind her.

Quinn's steps faltered slightly while her shoulders went tense. She cursed quietly for carelessly leaving her gun behind. She clenched her fists and shrugged inwardly. Guess she had to depend on her combat training then, despite her still healing injuries.

Quinn took careful steps, her ear trained on the complete silence, when a twig snapped and she swung around, ready to backhand whoever it was. She only just managed to stop mid-motion when she saw who the person was.

Rachel.

She put down her arms abruptly and let out a sigh of relief, slightly annoyed at the brunette for making her panic. Rachel let out her own gasp of relief and her wide eyes returned to their usual size, not that they were any smaller. The actress swallowed and wrapped her sweater tighter around her body.

Quinn stared at her with a frown. "Why are you here so late?"

Rachel raised a brow and Quinn could see the challenging glint in her eyes. "I could ask you the same question."

The blonde couldn't help but chuckle. Always the one to refuse to back down. "I needed some fresh air," she explained bluntly.

Rachel's eyes widened, apparently surprised that Quinn chose to be honest with her. She couldn't blame her. After all, they'd been circling around each other for a week and Quinn had been quite the excellent avoiding party. Quinn stifled a smile and turned back around to continue on her aimless journey. She could hear Rachel's hurrying footsteps behind her until they were strolling side by side.

"From what?" Rachel finally asked after a moment of silence.

Quinn clenched her fists behind her and pursed her lips. She didn't want to tell Rachel and she knew she shouldn't. She couldn't. Rachel saw Puck as a friend, even if Puck was being slightly hostile to her right now. The actress respected Puck for something and before their breakup they had been quite the honorary siblings.

Quinn clinched her jaw and gave her the half-truth, "From my mind."

The brunette frowned and she fingered the hem of her sweater, as if she was struggling to not touch something. Quinn was quite clear on what – or rather who – it was that Rachel was avoiding because she herself was doing the same thing with her fingers.

"Your mind?"

The blonde deflected the question. "You have a beautiful garden."

There was a scoff. "There's nothing but grass. And don't avoid the subject."

"Grass is a lot, Miss Berry, trust me. In Afghanistan, or any warzone really, there is not a single patch of grass. Just sand and dust all around. You'd be lucky to find a single living thing besides the soldiers. So yeah, I've come to appreciate grass." Quinn paused and then continued, "I just need a rest from thinking too much."

Rachel released a sigh. "Stop calling me that," she mumbled slowly, but loud enough for Quinn to hear.

"It's what an employee should call their employer," she said stiffly, knowing full well that was not what Rachel meant. "Ergo, it's what I shall call you."

She was putting a foot forward when Rachel grabbed her arm and pulled her back, spinning her around so they could see each other. Quinn stumbled back a little; shocked at the strength Rachel had and disappointed in her own unawareness. She blinked at the brunette when she saw her semi-glaring in her direction.

"Don't give me that look," Quinn finally said exasperatedly. "We've been through this before."

"Do I not have your trust yet?" Rachel asked bluntly.

Quinn, returning the favor, replied, "No."

A hurt look swept past Rachel's eyes but she quickly smothered it. Knowing her as well as she did, Quinn could still see it lingering. She wouldn't let it get to her. She should be honest with Rachel.

Rachel gulped and let out a desperate breath. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, as if the action could comfort her. Quinn's heart clenched slightly. She didn't know her words would hurt her to this extent, but she refused to lose her composure. The brunette looked around her and then back to her with that look on her face again. She wanted Quinn's trust. She wanted it despite everything. She thought Quinn would at least trust a little after that hug.

The brunette looked around her and then back to her with that look on her face again. She wanted Quinn's trust. She wanted it despite everything. She thought Quinn would at least trust a little after that hug.

"Not even a little?" she asked quietly.

The blonde stared into Rachel's eyes and saw nothing but desperate hope and hurt. She took a deep breath. "A little, yes. But fully, no. Miss Berry, you don't trust me either, to be completely honest."

"But I do!" Rachel exclaimed, taking Quinn aback. She stepped forward and pointed at her own chest. "I do trust you. I trust you with my _life_. I _know_ deep down that you will help me, that you'll come when I need you. I _know_, Quinn."

Her bodyguard's brows furrowed, but not into a frown. It was something Quinn did when she came to a realization or when she was really sad. Rachel couldn't determine which this one was. She searched Quinn's eyes and saw a bit of both.

"Rachel," Quinn whispered brokenly.

Rachel's eyes squeezed shut at the sound of her name falling from Quinn's lips. She had yearned for it for so long, and it sounded beautiful. She was convinced that her name would never sound as good coming out of somebody else's mouth.

Suddenly, she felt hands on her arms and her eyes snapped open to see that Quinn was so much closer now. She could feel her breath on her forehead and her firm hands on her arms. Rachel felt slightly safe like this. Her breath shuddered and her eyes drifted down to Quinn's lips for a moment before she looked back into her hazel green eyes.

"I'm sorry, okay? But I…I just can't right now. I'm learning to, really. I'm learning to trust you; to trust everyone. And I just don't know who to trust anymore," her voice drifted off, not willing to let anything else out.

She couldn't tell her that Puck was probably the culprit behind all these shenanigans. She most definitely could not tell her that the one of the producers of her film might be behind them. She couldn't tell her that the two people she used to trust so much were possible perpetrators.

Rachel nodded and swallowed again. "I understand," she replied and stepped back. She couldn't stand being so near Quinn and not be able to kiss her. "This won't change anything, right?" she asked reluctantly.

Quinn frowned. "Change what?"

"We were…sort of friendly after that hug. And I don't want to go back to what we were before. Hostile and…angry," Rachel explained, struggling with her choice of words.

"Oh," Quinn muttered as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "No, this won't change anything, Miss Berry."

Rachel's gaze hardened slightly. So they were back to that. She nodded and smiled sadly at Quinn before she turned and walked away.

Quinn silently watched as the woman she loved disappeared from her view, and into the mansion. She ran her hand through her hair in frustration. She was frustrated at herself. She was frustrated at everything. She felt as though she were hanging from a really thin thread just centimeters away from the ground, but the damn thread just wouldn't drop her off, and if the thread did drop her off, it would end in a painful collision.

She grunted loudly and stomped her feet, letting her frustration take over. She wanted to shoot herself for being so fucking stubborn and stupid and _so freaking in love_. She wanted to go back to the army where she wouldn't have to think about it. She wanted to go back to when everything was simply a numb pain.

She lowered her knees and knelt on the grass, pressing the heels of her hands hard into her eyes. God, why did she have to be so fucking stuck? She breathed harshly – wheezed, really. She felt the cold wind whipping at her tauntingly. She felt as if the world was laughing at her.

Finally, the dam broke and she cried.

* * *

Rachel sat at the long table, waiting for the rest of the cast and crew to come in. She fingered the edge of the script's front page, staring at nothing. She kept replaying Quinn's words in her mind and the knot around her heart tightened every time she thought of them.

Kitty was sitting next to her chatting with Artie. The two of them seemed to be hitting it off quite well. She had tuned them out earlier on, choosing instead to focus on her own thoughts. She knew it was unhealthy; that it would probably do more harm than good, but she really couldn't help it.

The woman she was in love with found it hard to trust her, for Christ's sake.

Whatever Rachel had told Quinn last night was nothing but the truth. She really did trust Quinn with her life. She would willingly follow Quinn through hell because she knew Quinn would do anything to get her through safely. She also knew that whatever Quinn told her was true. She may not be a psychic, despite everything she thought in her foolish teenage years, but she could still tell when Quinn was lying or not.

Their four-year separation made Quinn feel more like a stranger to her at this point, though she knew Santana had been right in her opinion all along.

Quinn was in the _army_. Rachel, despite her disinterest with the military and things alike, still knew that when you were in the freaking army, you learn that you can't really trust anybody. Because once you turned your back for even the slightest moment, someone would take the chance to stab you in it with no remorse.

God, Rachel just wanted Quinn to trust her. She wanted the blonde to stop addressing her so formally. She wanted what they had before everything went straight down from bliss to hell. She wanted it all. She wanted too much.

She was abruptly brought back to reality when someone smacked the tabletop. She looked up to see that everybody was already there with Dustin, the other producer Sugar Motta, and the writers standing at the head of the conference table. Rachel sighed and spun her chair to face them.

* * *

Quinn was poised alert the second she saw Dustin Goolsby approaching them from the Craft Service tent. She tensed and her hand went to her gun holster at an alarming rate. So far, her investigations on him hadn't helped him much.

She had learned that the year he retired from the army, he disappeared for thirteen months before reappearing as an extremely rich man who basically dabbled in every line of industry in the world. He also spoke extremely loudly regarding his support for women and homosexuals joining the army. She also found that he despised the entertainment industry. That managed to raise her suspicion at an alarming rate.

If he hated the entertainment industry, why would he invest so much in this movie?

He saw her standing by the trailer tent and smiled, raising his hand in greeting before going into the trailer tent. She moved closer to it, as though that would somehow allow her to better protect Rachel. Sam was with her this time while Puck was off patrolling.

She tried to listen to whatever was going on inside but she couldn't hear a damn thing. She sighed and flexed her fists while doing her best to resist walking into the trailer tent to keep an eye on her former officer. She couldn't help her protectiveness over Rachel even if she tried.

"So do you wanna tell me now?" Sam said, bringing her attention to him. She frowned and he shrugged. "I'm not blind, you know. I can see you acting all weird around Puckerman. I wanna know why."

She stared at him wide-eyed. She knew he had noticed, but she hadn't expected him to approach her about it so quickly. She blinked a couple of times as she attempted to find the right words and couldn't. Because really, there wasn't any good way to tell him that his best friend was a possible suspect.

And he definitely didn't need to hear that.

"I can't tell you," Quinn finally decided.

Sam didn't look all that surprised. He knew Quinn like the back of his hand. She always liked to be secretive to protect those around her. Her words, not his. He understood that she was doing what she thought was right.

He shook his head. "No, you can tell me. If you think you're protecting me by hiding things from me, you're wrong."

Quinn shook her head in response. "It's not just that, Sam. It's complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it."

"If only it were that easy," Quinn snapped. "Look, I know you wanna know, but please don't ask me until I know for sure because honestly, I'm not even sure that what I'm doing right now will result in something good or bad."

Good as in Puck was not the culprit.

Bad as in he was.

Either way, she still didn't know.

"I think I know what it's all about," Sam finally revealed and nodded slowly when he saw Quinn's stunned look. "I mean, like I said, I'm not dumb. I can see the look on your face whenever you look at him. And you kept acting so," he paused and then said, "off when you're around him." She kept silent. He sighed and scratched the back of his head. "I had my suspicions and I just kept wishing it wasn't true." He looked away and back to the front and quietly pleaded, "Please don't tell me you think Puck is behind this."

Quinn closed her eyes. She had her hands shoved into the back pockets of her slacks. Her thumb stroked the hilt of her gun, gaining some strange comfort from the gesture. Without her vision, she automatically depended on her ears. Everything she heard was sharper. The rustle of the grass. Someone jogging past. Props being moved. Everything.

When she opened them again, the sounds went slightly softer. Her posture was still tense as she answered, "I wish I could tell you that. I wish I could tell myself that. But sadly, I can't. Sam, I have been trying so hard to find any evidence that will lead me away from Puck. Believe me, I have."

She closed her mouth, not trusting herself to say anything else without letting a couple of tears fall. She wasn't made of steel, Goddamn it. The man they were talking about was her best friend. Quinn felt as though she had been pushed to the deepest corners of her life as she continued investigating, knowing that it was her best friend she was going on.

She gulped and continued, "So far, it's the cologne that kept me on him. And his...his hostility towards _her_. I know he still doesn't really like her so far because of me. That sliver of dislike could be the tipping point of all of this. You also know that her safety is my priority. I will always prioritize her."

She could see him nodding and chuckling humorlessly. "So much for no longer caring, huh?" he said. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Because she said that the second year she was in the army. "I understand though. I mean, I would've done the same for Mercedes."

She smiled at the mention of his girl back in Washington. "I'm glad you understand," she stated. "However, I have another suspect on my list. I can't tell you who, but he's above Puck on my list. So maybe Puck can be off the list soon, once I've found the clue."

Sam turned his head to her and he licked his lips before asking, "Can I help you?" She looked at him with a frown. "I know you've been asking for Santana's help, but everyone knows she is all talk and no action. She's just not that kind of a deal. All she does is order people around and bitch, which she is really good at. She sits behind a desk and she solves problems. Stuff like this though; sometimes we need something a little rough to get info. You feel me?"

Quinn considered his words and couldn't help but find some truth in it. "I still can't tell you who the other suspect is."

"I don't need to know."

"I can't let you get off the roster just like that. That would be favoritism and that's the last thing I need Azimio accusing me of right now." He nodded. "How about you keep an eye on Puck for me? Coax something – anything – out of him. Make sure he does nothing suspicious. If he does, report back to me immediately."

He smiled and nodded. "I can deal with that."

She returned the smile with a smaller one. "Thank you, Sam."

He laughed and reached over to punch her shoulder playfully. "I got your back, bro."

Quinn laughed and punched him back. "Best bro you ever had."

"That be right, brother!" he hooted with a grin.

* * *

A loud banging on Quinn's door awoke her, and she leaped out of bed, grabbing her gun. She stalked out of her bedroom and past a couple of groaning idiots half-asleep on the floor and opened the door, gun poised. Marley stood there, a look of panic on her face.

Quinn released a sigh of relief and lowered her firearm. She stood straight up and nodded at Marley. "What, Marley?"

"Someone…someone was…in Miss Berry's bedroom," Marley panted from exertion, forcing words out. "There's another letter. On her bed."

The blonde took off running, shooting pass Marley and charging in through the backdoor. She took the stairs two at a time and found everyone gathered at Rachel's door. She shouted, "What is everyone doing here? Don't you have a job? Search the goddamn property. Leave nothing unturned. Check the security video feed! Damn it, don't just stand here!"

The security team scrambled off at her loud authoritative voice, leaving Rachel, Santana, Brittany, Kurt and Azimio there. Marley was standing behind her, unsure if she should go. Quinn made a signal for her to stay to help her out. Puck and Sam were behind her, ready.

Quinn's eyes shifted to Sam and he inclined his head, indicating that Puck had been with him since they returned. She felt something akin to relief flood over her and she strode into the room, followed by the two men. She saw the letter unopened, sitting in the middle of the bed. She clenched her jaw and held her fists tightly, digging her fingernails into her palms.

They got into her bedroom as well. Under Quinn's watch, no less. Damn it, someone slipped into Rachel's fucking _bedroom_ while she was on the property.

She couldn't believe she let her guard down. She'd been so tired from the lack of sleep last night and the talk with Sam and the investigations that she drifted off to sleep. She didn't think of making her usual nightly rounds before getting into bed. She smacked herself on the forehead multiple times, grunting and feeling oddly satisfied at the self-torture.

She kept smacking herself until someone stopped her. Someone had grabbed her wrists and gently pulled them down. Quinn gritted her teeth and opened her eyes to see Rachel in front of her, still holding her wrists. The brunette was staring at her with concern. She also noticed Santana and Brittany standing on her sides while Puck and Sam were watching her from next to the bed.

Rachel hesitated but still reached up to touch Quinn's face. Quinn sighed at the touch and unconsciously leaned into it. Rachel's thumb stroked her skin and she did nothing but stare at Quinn, waiting for a sign that she had calmed down.

Quinn took a shuddering breath and looked down at Rachel with a pained expression, which in turn pained Rachel. "They got into your _bedroom_, Rachel," she whispered in a strangled voice. She didn't bother using formality. She didn't have the time to know that she should be formal with Rachel. "I let them get into your bedroom. I failed at protecting you."

The actress shook her head and didn't stop stroking Quinn's face. "You didn't fail, Quinn. You didn't," she argued. "That scumbag found a way to slip past your amazing security measures. It's not your fault."

"It is, Rachel," Quinn insisted and pulled away. She started pacing the floor. "If I didn't fall asleep, if I did my nightly rounds, they wouldn't have gotten in in the first place. I _let_ them in."

"You didn't." Rachel took a step forward and stopped Quinn. She spun the blonde around to face her. "You. Didn't," she enunciated.

Quinn's eyes caught movement at the door and saw a black shadow before it moved away. Her eyes widened. Shit. She lunged at the door and had her gun out of the holster. She looked back at her team and a startled Rachel.

"They're still here. Get the doors locked. Block every entrance and exit," she barked out her orders before rushing out after the shadow. It had just slipped past the corner as she came around and she hurried after it. She stood there, staring at an empty corridor with four doors on each side. She gulped and treaded the floor, trying to catch something unusual. "You can run, but you can't hide," she said, hoping that the person could hear her. "You should just come out and be done with it."

She heard a faint chuckle and she swung around, gun at the ready. "That phrase is getting old, Q."

She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

One of the doors opened a man wearing a hoodie came out. It was definitely a man. He had a tall build and she could see he worked out from the tight fit of his outfit. He had a black mask on so she couldn't see him in the dark. He was holding a knife. A military knife. Her eyes snapped back to his head.

"Dustin?" she whispered.

He lunged and she was pushed on her back. She grunted at the force of the push when he suddenly straddled her, landing on her stomach. She huffed and coughed but fought him as he tried to slash her with the knife. He plunged it and she moved her face so it would stick to the wooden floor under the carpet. But it didn't stick. Or it did but he was so strong that he managed to snag it out. He continued his assault, Quinn barely dodging him once more as the blade managed to graze her brow.

Her neck hurt from the sudden movement but she ignored it. He grabbed her throat tightly and she gripped his arm with both her hands, trying to get him off. But he wouldn't relent. Fuck, he was so fucking strong. He stabbed again and this time, he managed to stab the knife into the outer side of her ear, just inside her pinnacle.

She howled in pain, the sudden burst of adrenaline giving her the strength to push him off. He staggered off and landed on his back. She was in too much pain to care about him anymore. She rolled over to her side and grabbed her ear, howling loudly. She was actually crying at the pain. She honestly hadn't felt pain like this since she had been stabbed in the army. The men she had fought in the theater hadn't even managed to cause the level of pain she was currently in.

She was turned over and the man was there again with the knife. She saw his eyes; nothing but deep pools of savagery and cruelty. Before he could do anything, he was abruptly pulled off of her. Puck now stood over her, sparring with the hooded man. The man took a chance to run off after delivering a sucker punch to Puck. Puck chased after the man, disappearing from sight just moments before she heard the crash of a window with her other ear.

There was nothing and then he came rushing back. The look of panic on his face was remarkable. He tugged a napkin out of his pocket and moved her hand away to cover her ear with it. Then he put her hand back, pressing it to the napkin.

"Damn it, Quinn. Twice in four weeks. You have shit luck," he groaned. She couldn't really hear him but she could make out the words. "Come on, let's get you to a doctor."

She felt like fire ants were eating away at her ear. A motherfucking colony of fire ants. She turned her head into his chest and choked on her own tears and pain. Fuck, could he please just put her out so she wouldn't have to feel like this? She felt herself lifted. She didn't know what was going on anymore. All she could hear was the pumping of her own blood and the buzzing in her head and _fuck_, she just wanted to cut her ear off at this point.

"Knock me out," she whispered and she could feel a pause in his movements. She felt his chest rumbled and she guessed he was asking what. She repeated, "Knock me out. Please."

"…crazy," she caught with her good ear.

"Please," she begged and moaned in pain. She moaned for a long time. Suddenly, she felt someone turning her head and she got a fuzzy image of her in the air and Rachel's frantic face and the tears rolling down her cheeks. She noticed that Santana's eyes were red too. Brittany was openly crying while Kurt was biting his nails and wincing as if he couldn't bear the image. Then she wondered how bad she looked right now. "Knock me out, Puck," she managed.

"No," he said loud enough for her to hear.

She turned away from Rachel and landed a flimsy punch on his chest. "Goddamn it, just sedate me or do _something_ because this is too fucking much of a pain to be conscious for."

Quinn looked up at him with watery eyes and he was looking down at her with a frown and he finally nodded. He put her down and then clenched his fist before surging forward. She could see Rachel trying to stop him before she blacked out.

Finally.

* * *

**okay, done. don't kill me. i'll have another update up soon. i promise. if you wanna go batshit crazy, you can do that by reviewing. or you can simply review just to tell what you think of this chapter. i welcome any sort of reviews.**

**see you next chapter!**


	12. Loss

**hey hey hey! see? i do keep my promise. here's another update! i'm sorry for that cliffhanger but it has to be done :) hope you enjoy!** **also, thanks to Steph for being such an awesome beta. she actually gave me a few good ideas so you guys just gotta wait hah**

**also i noticed a hater in my reviews. if you don't like Quinn, then you shouldn't be reading this at all. or any faberry fic for that matter. you don't understand Quinn. please leave. **

**response to reviews**

**caffeinecrazy: really**

**Miss I DON'T Know it all: ;) is it him or is it not?**

**Guest: that kiss is coming, don't worry**

**Phoenix2013: the promised update :) your chapter is on its way btwI**

**Ad3n: they will talk over the course of time**

* * *

Dr. Costner was waiting at the emergency entrance when they arrived. He had nurses and residents at the ready and a gurney prepared. They rushed towards the car as soon as it stopped.

Puck came out and opened the backdoor where Quinn was laying; her head resting on Rachel's lap, blood still dripping from her ear. He helped the residents transfer Quinn onto the gurney, and together they pushed her into the ER. Rachel hurried after them, followed by Santana, Brittany and Kurt. Sam stayed behind to give any necessary information and to fill out the paperwork for Quinn's admittance.

They rolled her into an available bay and hooked her up to oxygen, various IV drips and some foreign wires. Dr. Costner took a closer look at Quinn and shook his head. He swung around to one of the nurses.

"Book the OR. She needs surgery immediately. This injury to her ear is very severe," he said calmly and turned to Rachel and her people. "I need to operate on Miss Fabray now. You can wait in the waiting room. Now, if you will excuse me." He walked out of the bay, followed by the nurses and residents rolling the gurney out.

One nurse, chart in hand, stayed behind to address the awaiting group. "Please follow me," she said. They followed her to an elevator, and then on to a waiting room a couple of floors up. There was a coffee table in the middle of the room with a few rows of chairs around it, and a vending machine in the corner. "You can wait here while Dr. Costner performs the operation on Miss Fabray. The OR's down the hall. The doctor will come to you as soon as he's done." Then she walked out.

Rachel collapsed onto a chair and clawed her fingers through her messy hair. She was in her gym clothes. Tears were rolling freely down her cheeks. She sniffled and choked on her tears. Brittany sat beside her and wrapped a consoling arm around her, whispering soothing words into her ear.

"It's my fault," Rachel whimpered. Brittany began shaking her head but Rachel insisted, "She wouldn't be here like this if she hadn't been trying to protect me."

"It's her job, Rach," Brittany whispered. "She is supposed to protect you."

Rachel sobbed harder into her hands. "Exactly!" she exclaimed. "I said I didn't want a bodyguard, but Kurt insisted. So I got one, and it ended up being her, and I just…she's suffered so much damage since she's been here."

"You wouldn't be safe if you didn't have a bodyguard," Kurt said.

"Well, now Quinn's not safe!" Rachel said, almost yelling, glaring at Kurt with red eyes. "She's in there because she was protecting me. She could be deaf because of that wound. She didn't sign up for this!"

"She knew damn well what she signed up for the minute she took the job, Berry," Santana intervened. "Of course, she didn't know she signed up for you, but she knew she was going to be risking a lot by being a bodyguard. When she found out it was you, she knew that she wouldn't be risking 'a lot', she continued, using finger quotations for emphasis, "she knew she would risk it _all_ for you."

"I don't want her to!"

"It's not for you to decide!" Santana snapped. "She would give her goddamn life for you. She wanted to do it. She decided to do it. It's her choice. We can't do anything but wish for her safety. Though given the aggression of that bastard and her current position, it's obviously not working out so well."

Rachel stared at Santana for a minute, mulling things over in her mind before she said quietly, "Well it'll be over if I decide to fire her."

Santana's eyes widened. Kurt pushed off the wall. Puck and Sam were watching her with wide eyes. Brittany was sitting next to her frozen. They were shocked into momentary silence from Rachel's statement.

"You wouldn't," Santana muttered.

"I can't risk losing her," Rachel stated, her voice cracking despite how definitive her tone was. "I'll fire her before this all goes too far. She can go back to her life. _Safely_," she added. "I can take not seeing her. I can take us parting forever. But I _cannot_ handle losing her literally. I cannot handle her being six feet under. I cannot handle her being fatally injured."

The atmosphere was chilly and stiff as they stared at Rachel. She was gazing blankly into the air, looking ragged and tired. Kurt swallowed at the sight. He had not seen Rachel this miserable in four years ago. His heart ached for her.

"I just can't," Rachel whispered.

Santana took a sharp breath as she took a step closer to Rachel. She hesitated before kneeling down in front of Rachel. She looked up at her and frowned.

"Even if you fire her," she started, "she's gonna find ways to sneak back in. She's gonna find ways to protect you, near you or far from you. She's not gonna give up until she's sure you're safe. Quinn Fabray is stubborn like that. Quinn Fabray _loves_ you like that."

Rachel tensed. "You don't know that."

"I do," Santana answered quickly. "Believe me, I do." There was a pause before she chuckled humorlessly. "You know, I hated you. I hated you for the emotional damage you put on Quinn. But, I never really bothered to put myself in your shoes. I think I understand now. Why you were scared, I mean. To have someone you love out there in a warzone," she drifted off, her eyes flickering to Brittany before she shook her head, "it's too scary."

The actress nodded. "Yeah, it was. It still is. I was angry with her and I couldn't handle the fear. I didn't want to sit at home anticipating the day someone in a uniform would knock on my door to give me bad news. The opportunity in LA was an incentive, I guess. For me to escape the fear and also to pursue my career."

"I'm still pissed at you for leaving for that opportunity," Santana said, but this time with a smile.

Rachel smiled back, albeit sadly. "It didn't help, if that's any comfort. I lived in fear every day for four years. I still…have nightmares about her dying in the combat zone or in the hospital. I have nightmares. I have daydreams. They absolutely tear me apart."

Kurt was just standing there, listening to Rachel pouring her heart out. He never knew about the nightmares. He didn't know about the fear. He knew about the broken heart. He had known she missed Quinn terribly, but he hadn't known about everything else. He suddenly found himself wondering if he'd been a good friend after all.

The Latina tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear and cautiously reached out to take Rachel's hands in hers. "Well, now you're gonna be strong for Quinn. She needs you to be strong for her. You're gonna be your usual bossy self and make her stay in bed. You're not gonna fire her. Once she's healed, you're not gonna stop her from doing her job. Frankly, you can't because she's a stubborn bitch." Rachel laughed a little. "But most of all, you're gonna prove to her that you still love her."

Rachel brow twitched and she licked her lips. "Do you believe me?" Santana raised her brow in question. "Do you believe me when I say I love her?"

"Not at first, to be honest. But now," Santana squeezed her hand and nodded, "yeah."

Rachel reached out and wrapped her arms around Santana, burying her face into her hair. Brittany had to stifle a smile at the awkward face Santana was making. "Thank you," Rachel whispered. "I really needed that."

Santana pushed past the awkwardness and patted her back gently. "I know you did."

Footsteps echoed loudly down the hallway and everyone turned their attention towards the door as Dr. Costner entered, his blue scrubs spattered with blood. He was staring at Rachel, and his unreadable expression terrified her.

The group circled around the doctor with Rachel taking the spot directly in front of him. Brittany kept one arm circled around her waist, supporting her weight. "How is she, doctor?" she asked weakly.

"The stab, fortunately, didn't puncture any major vessels. It was pretty external, just inside the pinnacle, though the ear still suffered a certain amount of damage." He sighed. "I can't give you the exact number, but I can make a ballpark of it. I would estimate a loss of 20 to 25 percent of the hearing in her left ear. I've done as much as I can. It won't be an immediate loss; it will be gradual over the course of a few years."

"How many years?" Santana interrupted, her hand covering her mouth.

Dr. Costner's frown grew deeper and he cleared his throat. "No more than five. It could even be over the course of the next few weeks," he answered. "I know it's a short amount of time, considering her young age. However, she still has a significant amount of her hearing. It is going to start deteriorating now. For now, she will need to keep a bandage over her ear for the next week."

Rachel gulped and closed her eyes for a second before opening them again and saying, "I understand."

The doctor nodded and cleared his throat again. "Furthermore, I noticed she suffered some beating over her body as well." He gave each of them a look, waiting for an answer.

"The person who slashed Quinn last time was in my house. She was trying to catch him," Rachel explained in a whisper.

Dr. Costner shook his head. "Miss Berry, you have to understand that Miss Fabray had suffered a significant amount of damage not four weeks ago. I may have cleared her for work and action, but her wound's still in bound in stitches."

"Was it bad?" Rachel interrupted.

He sighed. "A couple of stitches ripped and some staples came out. I had to sew her back together. There was slight bleeding. The progress she made over the last three weeks is gone. She needs to stay in bed for another two weeks. She's strictly forbidden from any excessive activity such as running or jumping. She can walk but for no more than thirty minutes. In fact, I would recommend bed rest for at least two days before she does walk."

The brunette ran her hand over her face and sighed before nodding. "Okay, okay," she repeated. "Where – where is she, doctor?"

"She's being admitted into a room now for monitoring. I recommend she stay a week for observation before she goes home, followed by another week of bed rest," he said. "My resident will bring you to her. You can ask him anything further on your way there." He turned to one of his residents. "Alert me when she wakes up, Dr. White." Then he turned back and nodded with a smile before going on his other errands.

Dr. White nodded at them and motioned for them to follow him. There was a cramped elevator ride up to Quinn's floor, where the doctor led them to room 394 and opened the door. There Quinn lied. Hooked on multiple IV's and breathing with a ventilator. Rachel could barely stifle the gasp that threatened to escape from her throat.

"Only one of you is allowed to stay the night," the doctor said.

"Rachel should stay," Kurt said immediately. None of them protested. She gave him a grateful look and he nodded. "I'll call the set and tell them."

"Thank you, Kurt," she told him.

He kissed her on the forehead and nodded. "Get some sleep. You look awful," he said softly. He stood upright and stared at Quinn for a moment before walking out, already typing on his phone.

Santana stepped forward and took Quinn's hand in her own. She reached out to brush her hair back, careful to not touch the bandage over her damaged ear. She sighed and squeezed the blonde's hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"You gotta stop worrying us like this, dumbass," she whispered before standing. She turned to Rachel. "Call us if anything happens, okay?" The other brunette nodded. She reached for Brittany's hand. "Come on, Britt. Let's go back and get some sleep."

Puck and Sam were the only ones left in the room with Rachel. They were standing on the far side of the room; as if taking one step forward would risk Quinn's life.

Puck clenched his fist, the one that had knocked Quinn out. He still remembered the painful sounds of Quinn moaning and grunting. He could still hear Quinn's voice in pain, begging him to knock her out because it was too painful and hard to bear. He couldn't imagine the kind of pain she was in. It was her freaking ear, man. Her ear. He swore to find the bastard that did this to her and stab both of his ears.

Sam stood next to him, both hands shoved into his pockets. He felt partly relieved and partly angered. He was relieved because it was now clear that Puck wasn't the culprit. His best friend did not do this. He was angered because of what happened to Quinn. He was angry that the real one behind this whole mess managed to slip past their extremely good security measures and got even a scratch on Quinn. He was angry that all of this had to happen to Quinn, who had literally just come back from the army and only wanted a little peace and quiet. He couldn't help but feel a little angry with Quinn herself, too.

He wanted to shake her awake and scream at her for being so goddamn stupid and naïve and so protective and just so fucking in love. She wouldn't be here, unconscious, if she wasn't so in love with the woman sitting right beside her. God, he couldn't bear losing her. Quinn had been with him through his ups and downs. She had been there for him when his dad passed away. She had been there two years ago when he broke up with a girl he had been in love with. She had always been _there_ for him.

And he wanted to be _here_ for Quinn now.

"Did you know I feel the same way Santana did for the past four years?" Puck said suddenly. Both heads turned to him. He was staring blankly at Rachel. Not glaring or anything, he just stared. "I didn't hate you, but I was _so_ angry at you. At both of you really. I struggled to choose. You were both really good friends and I struggled."

"You chose to stay with her," she whispered for him.

He nodded. "I chose to stay with her. I blamed both of you for your fallout. You were both dumbasses." He certainly didn't choose to keep his mouth shut right now. "I understood that you were afraid but damn it, Berry, you _knew_ how much she loved you," he hissed, pointing at Quinn. "And you still left her. For some stupid opportunity in LA."

"I know," Rachel replied.

"She wasn't any better either. I mean, she could've joined the Secret Service like Sam and I did but no, she chose to sign up for the freaking army and risk her goddamn life for four goddamn years. She was a dumbass too. Still is, actually."

"She is," Rachel agreed.

Puck reluctantly moved to the other side of the bed and looked down at Quinn. "When she came back, I actually thought she was finally going to get some peace and quiet." He chuckled at that thought, so did Rachel. "That turned out well."

He looked a moment longer before releasing a deep breath and walked towards the door. He paused and turned back to Rachel. "Just so you know, I believe you too." He offered her a smirk before walking out, followed by Sam, who didn't bother to say anything.

Rachel turned back to Quinn and sat down on the uncomfortable chair beside her, taking her hand and kissing it. She cupped Quinn's cheek with her hand and leaned her cheek against the unconscious woman's hand.

"You'll be okay, Quinn. I know you will."

* * *

She didn't know how long she slept for, but the curtains were open and the room was bright when she woke up. Rachel started in her chair and she looked around her. She finally saw Sam sitting in another chair on the other side of the bed, sipping on a carton of milk. He must've gotten it from the vending machine outside.

Rachel buried the heels of her palms into her eyes and groaned. Her back hurt from sleeping while sitting. She turned towards Quinn who was still asleep. The anesthesia still hadn't worn off, apparently. She stroked her thumb over Quinn's hand before letting it go and standing up.

Sam watched her stood up and told her, "Kurt got you some clothes and breakfast." He nodded towards the table next to Quinn's bed where the items were placed and kept on sipping his milk. "You should go change. Kurt needed to go to the set to settle some stuff with the producers and the director. They aren't very happy with you taking time off again and again."

She nodded and waved it away nonchalantly. "It's expected. I'll call Kurt and talk to him." She looked down at Quinn and then back to Sam. "Look after her while I change, okay?" He nodded with a salute.

She took the clothes from the table and headed into the bathroom. It was quaint. There was a sink with a mirror above it, a toilet opposite the sink and a small shower stall on the side.

She would just have to deal with this for now.

After she showered and changed, she came out to find that Sam was nowhere to be seen. She frowned and sat back down in the chair she had slept in earlier. The door opened and Sam came in with a cup of hot coffee.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and approached her to offer her the cup. "I picked up coffee for you. It's not the best but it's still…coffee," he finished and cleared his throat again before sitting on the chair opposite her.

She tried to restrain a small smile from spreading across her face. Sam was trying to be aloof yet caring at the same time. He obviously wasn't doing a good job at it. She muttered a quiet thank you and took her breakfast to the table on the other side of the room and sat down on the sofa there. She ate the sandwich despite finding it hard to stomach any food now. She drank the coffee and resisted the urge to spit it out.

It was awful, but she had to make do.

Rachel watched Quinn the whole time as she chewed and swallowed. The heaviness in her heart was growing by the second. She never thought things would get so bad. She thought it was just some asshole playing some pranks on her. But they obviously meant business if they had to plant a bomb and hire people to harm Quinn _and then_ personally hurt her again.

She didn't know what she had done to deserve this. She didn't know what Quinn had done to deserve this. She wanted all of this to stop. She wanted to stop seeing Dr. Costner because of Quinn. She wanted a lot of things, but for now she just wanted it all to stop

Her social range wasn't wide. She didn't make a lot of friends. She wasn't one to make friends. She knew that working her line of business she was going to make enemies. People joined this line of business for fame. Their hunger for fame was huge and consuming. There was rarely anybody who joined for passion nowadays.

Her fame was growing as each day passed. The talk about this movie was going viral and she was now getting recognized on the streets more often than not. So it wasn't a surprise if someone, maybe even a colleague, would do something so extreme to eliminate her. Or she might have done something to anger someone extremely in the past.

She buried her face in her hands and exhaled harshly. She was completely confused and blurry and scared at this point. She couldn't concentrate on anything. She could barely keep down food. She was sure she was gonna throw up the sandwich later. She had no idea what she was supposed to do now. She knew she couldn't lose Quinn. She knew that if Quinn died because of this job, it would completely ruin her to the extent where she might do the extreme herself.

"Miss Berry?" She looked up to see Sam staring at her in curiosity and if she wasn't mistaken with that look in his eyes, concern. "Are you okay?"

She opened her mouth and closed it again. She didn't have the energy to lecture the three of them – Quinn, Puck and Sam – to stop calling her that again. Besides, it was obvious that they only listened to Quinn now. If she was calling Rachel that, they would call her that too. It was inevitable. She sighed and stood up, picking up the empty cup and plastic carton.

"I'm just gonna throw this and call Kurt," she said weakly and walked out. She discarded the trash and instantly called Kurt. She listened to the dial tone and breathed in relief when he picked up. "I know you're talking to Dustin and Artie and their partners. I know they're not happy."

"They're not." The man didn't even bother to lie. "They're in the office discussing what they're gonna do. I've explained the whole thing to them. I told them that the security team is incompetent if Quinn's not there to lead them. And now that she's lying in a hospital bed, we can't do anything. I won't risk your life without Quinn there to save it."

"Kurt," she cut in softly. He stopped in his rant. "I understand why they're unhappy. They have a right to be unhappy. Nobody has taken as many days off as I have. But I have a way to shut them up."

"What?"

"Tell them I will pay for whatever extra costs in the future until we wrap up," she said.

"Rachel! You'll probably go bankrupt for that!" Kurt exclaimed.

"No I won't," she replied. "I said extra costs. I didn't say everything. Extra costs mean irrelevant props and trailer replenishments and craft service and stuff like that. Besides, there's only a few scenes left to film and we're done. I don't think that'll cost much."

Kurt seemed to be taking a few seconds consider his options and her idea. "Okay," he finally relented. "Do whatever you want. You're the one with the money. Don't blame me if you go bankrupt."

"I'm willing to go bankrupt if it means Quinn will be safe at last," she murmured.

The other end of the line went silent. She could hear Kurt shuffling around here and there and then the unmistakable tinkle of music box in her trailer. It was like a lucky charm to her. It was a gift from Quinn on their third anniversary.

"Are you okay, Rachel?" Kurt queried quietly.

Rachel leaned back against the wall with one hand tucked behind her, the other holding the phone to her ear. She looked up at the ceiling and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'm holding up as good as I can." She closed her eyes and breathed a few times before she opened them again. "I know I don't want to be in a hospital ever again if I can help it."

"I know, Rachel. I know."

"She's in there, Kurt. With a damaged ear and a battered body. I can't even imagine how she'll take the news that she's gonna lose her hearing."

"20 to 25 percent," Kurt said.

"She'll still lose it. I know she depends on her hearing a lot. Nobody wants to be damaged or have a somewhat disability, Kurt. Not you, not me," her voice drifted off and she said the next words quietly that Kurt had to strain to hear them. "Not her."

Kurt sighed. "Let's just be thankful that she's breathing. She's alive, Rachel. That's all that matters for now."

Rachel hummed and turned to look at the door. "I gotta get back inside. I'll talk to you later."

"I'll be there in a couple of hours."

She hung up and pocketed her phone. She took a deep bracing breath and opened the door slowly so it wouldn't creak. She could see Sam holding Quinn's hand, his head lying on top of their clasped hands. She couldn't see his face but his shoulders were shaking every now and then.

She swallowed and covered her mouth with her palm. She stepped out again and shut the door behind her. Her head landed against the wood with a silent thump. She slid down to the floor and drew up her knees. She wrapped her arms around her legs and lowered her head on the ridge. Tears rolled down her cheeks freely. She sobbed like a girl would when the love of her life was lying in a hospital bed. She cried like one would when her heart was on the brink of being torn apart. She let it all go.

"Damn it, Quinn," she whimpered and sobbed.

* * *

Sam sat on the chair while Rachel was out. He clenched and unclenched his jaw repeatedly. His fists were tight on his thighs. His eyes traced Quinn's fragile form on the bed. He was caught between shaking her awake and pulling her tight in his arms just to feel her breathing against him. He was caught between staying rational and rushing outside to find that bastard who did this.

He leaned forward stiffly in his chair and awkwardly gripped Quinn's hand. He kissed her knuckles and choked. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to stay behind his lids, willing every pore of his body to absorb it. He would not cry. He took a shuddering breath through his nose and he leaned his forehead against their clasped hands. He rocked back and forth in his chair, as if doing so would stop the waterworks from coming.

Try as he might, the dam broke and the tears came. He lay his head down with her hands against his cheek and he sobbed. He'd been holding it in for hours. He'd been fortifying a strong front in front of Puck, Santana and the others. He hardly said a word the entire morning. Everybody hardly said a word.

When Santana asked him to go to the hospital to watch Quinn and check on Rachel, he agreed without complaint. He knew Santana was set on finding the bastard and she wouldn't ever let anyone take it from her. Puck had accompanied Kurt to the set when they left. He said he couldn't handle seeing Quinn like this. Sam had only quietly nodded in agreement.

"I hate you," he whimpered, his head still down on the mattress. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," he rambled on. "Wake up. Now. Wake up."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Rachel was numb and stiff on the floor. Her blank stare lingered on the white bland wall in front of her. Her focus was scattered. The tear tracks dried on her cheeks. Nurses who passed gasped at her. Some stared at her curiously. She would've thought sights like herself right now were commonplace in the hospital..

Apparently not.

She pulled herself onto her feet. She brushed her pants and opened the door again. Sam was now flipping through a magazine, acting nonchalant. It was as if what she saw just now had never happened. She cleared her throat to alert him of her presence. His head snapped up and she could see he cleaned up well. There was no sign of crying on his face. He was composed and collected.

She inwardly shook her head but put on a smile for him. A small one at that. He nodded back and went back to his magazine. She was just about to sit when she saw Quinn start to stir. She stood upright and stared. She swore she saw Quinn's eyes flicker. She reached out for her hand and watched.

A groan. Sam put down his magazine and stared at Quinn. The blonde, unaware of her anticipating spectators, rolled her head and groaned more. Her eyes flickered, her fingers twitched; those beautiful hazel-green eyes finally made their appearance as her lids lifted with effort. Rachel gasped and moved forward to take her hand while the other kept brushing her hair as Quinn got used to her surroundings.

Sam, knowing they needed time alone, went outside to get the doctors.

Quinn's eyes wandered the room before finally focusing in on Rachel's face looming above her. She took a second to appreciate the beauty she'd awaken to before coming to her senses. Her throat was dry as fuck. She gulped to moisten her throat slightly and croaked for water.

Rachel rushed to pour a glass of water from the jug and helped Quinn sit up before giving her the glass. It took Quinn a little effort to sit upright and relax against the pillows behind her. She drank the water appreciatively and let Rachel put it back down on the table.

Quinn surveyed around her again before her lips quirked slightly. "I think I'm done with doctors and medications for now," she remarked and a laugh escaped Rachel. Quinn smiled and she reached up to brush her hair, touching the gauze on her ear. She hissed in pain and she gingerly touched the gauze again. She huffed a humorless laugh and muttered, "Huh, guess it was all real."

The brunette sat back down, struggling with what to say. Just that moment, the door opened to Dr. Costner, followed by Dr. White and Sam. Dr. Costner pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled at Miss Fabray, though a little sympathetically.

"Good to see you, Miss Fabray," he greeted.

Quinn rolled her eyes and grunted at the pain the action had caused. "I can't say the same," she murmured and sighed. "So when can I get out?"

His eyes flicked to Rachel for a moment before he looked back to Quinn. "Not for another week, I'm afraid." He took the chart hanging at the end of bed and flicked through it. "You have sustained quite a few injuries, Miss Fabray. Your ear was stabbed, your stitches were ripped open. There was some internal bleeding but I've stopped it. I'm gonna have to keep you here for observation before I let you go."

The blonde stared at the doctor for a moment before she shook her head. "No."

"Yes," Rachel quickly cut in. She returned Quinn's glare with her own. "You're staying here for a week, in bed. You're not moving unless you have to use the bathroom. You're staying right here. And when you go home, you're staying in bed for another week."

"Wha – Miss Berry, that is ridiculous! I can walk fine, okay? There is nothing wrong with me." She looked back and forth between Rachel and Dr. Costner who was watching them with slight amusement. "Just get me out of here!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Dr. Costner apologized with a smile. "Miss Berry was right. You're going to stay in bed here for a week and then for another week back home. It speeds up your healing process. If you want to get back to your job without any more complications, you should do as I say."

Quinn gaped at them, then at Sam for help. All Sam could offer was a helpless shrug. She huffed and grumbled. None of her words were audible. Rachel was sure there were some really colorful words.

"Now, I have another matter to inform you of," he said gravely, his smile vanished.

"Just get it over with."

Rachel chewed her lower lip as she carefully watched Quinn's reaction to the doctor's prognosis. He didn't leave out anything. He spared no mercy and he kept on as Quinn's eyes gradually misted over. Her face was no longer angry, just vacant. Rachel knew that this wasn't a good sign.

Dr. Costner suggested a few options for her hearing, which wasn't much. Hearing aid. Just the term was enough to make Rachel's head hurt. He asked them to call him if they needed help, then he bade goodbye and left, leaving the three of them in the room.

Sam scuffed his shoe against the carpet as he waited for the explosion to come. Rachel was resisting the urge to take Quinn's hand. Quinn was merely sitting there, gauze over her ear, staring into space. She was quiet. She was immobile. The room was silent except for the sound of Sam's shoe scuffing on the carpet.

Quinn's throat clearing shattered the silence and she blinked. And blinked. And blinked. She cleared her throat again and reached out to take the glass and drank the water again. She put it back down and resumed staring into space.

"I...I need to be alone right now," she said, her voice fragile and weak. "Please," she added as a plea.

Rachel looked up at Sam and he was looking back at her, waiting for something. She nodded and stood up. She moved closer to Quinn and leaned down to kiss her forehead without hesitation. She cupped her cheek for a second before leaving the room with Sam.

She was sure she heard a sob when she closed the door.

* * *

**i'm not sure if we should consider a cliffhanger. but i'm wearing a protective vest for now. anyway, review please! see you next chapter!**


	13. Flawed

**the chapter is here! it's unbeta-ed because my beta's computer kind of crashed. i did the best i can to proofread it but if there's still some mistakes, forgive me. and i'm so sorry for the long wait.**

**response to reviews**

**croque: aww thanks**

**IloveDiannaAgron: they can't kill unless it's absolutely necessary. and don't worry, the bastard's ass will be kicked.**

**CR00: hmm maybe or maybe not**

**ArmadilloPretzels: i still have it on**

* * *

The day after that, Quinn was acting like nothing had happened. She was back to her witty self with the driest sense of humor. She refused to take meds even though she felt painful. She still took them in the end anyways.

"Quinn Fabray, if you do not take your medications, I will have Dr. Costner keep you in here for as long as it takes until you take them."

Apparently, the diva was back too.

Quinn had often pleaded with the doctor to release her over the following week. Each day the doctor was in, she would insist that she was fine and that she could function well and there was nothing wrong with her. But Dr. Costner was as stubborn as she was and only smiled at her before walking out, informing Rachel that she was okay but she still had to stay, which Rachel agreed upon.

It was as if Rachel was her manager now and she handled everything Quinn Fabray-related. If Rachel wasn't here – either she was still at home or on set – Santana or Sam would do the job for her. They'd give her a look that would shut her up, despite the fact that their looks weren't as effective as Rachel's was.

They still laughed. They still joked. They still chatted. They still bickered. Quinn's distrust in Puck had faded since the incident. She had slowly grown to trust Rachel, though not a lot. They were no longer arguing or shouting or crying because of each other.

In spite of all of these, they still noticed that the effects of the injury on her ear had slowly taken on Quinn. They had to speak louder so she could hear them. If they spoke a little too softly, she would not respond. She had refused any hearing aid options until it was needed. And she herself knew she already needed it.

Seems like she's gonna lose twenty to twenty five per cent of her hearing in the shortest length of time – which meant over the next few weeks.

During the nights, when they were all gone – Quinn insisted she needed some me-time since they were constantly there bothering her – she would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. She would listen to muted sounds of footsteps outside. The quietness lingered around her, mocking her of her loneliness and current situation.

She would occasionally knock on the metal of her bed rack or slammed her palm on the wooden surface of the bedside table and she would breathe in relief when she could hear the sounds, even though they weren't as clear as they used to be. Then she would cry, releasing the sadness and the regret and the sorrow she'd been holding in since she woke up every morning.

She'd blame herself for being so careless. She'd blame herself for being so stupid. She'd blame herself for letting her guard down. She'd blame herself for everything.

And then morning came and she would be cool and happy and laughing. She would be her usual self and be a control freak. She would ask Puck or Sam for reports daily. She would ask Santana on whatever she'd find out – nothing, so far. She didn't tell them anything about Dustin Goolsby. She already _knew_ it was Dustin Goolsby. And she made damn sure that she was gonna get back at him when she got out of the hospital.

Then Rachel would come after another day of filming with dinner. Quinn would then truly really smile for the first time of the day. Everyone – including Finn and Blaine, oddly – would gather in the room and they would chat about everything and anything. From the latest prank Ellen DeGeneres pulled on whoever guest star that day to whatever happened on set.

Quinn soon found that Finn really wasn't that bad of a guy. She was angry with him before because she thought he was dating Rachel and she was jealous. Yes, Quinn Fabray did get jealous. She was human, after all. Although he might not be as smart as the people she usually associate with, he often had ways to make people laugh unintentionally. Quinn knew that he carried feelings for Rachel – he told her as much. But he also knew that Rachel only loved her.

"Rachel told me," he said, smiling at her.

Maybe that was the moment when the grudge she had on him finally faded and she smiled back at him. A pure let's-be-friends smile.

The day she was released, she struggled to get out of bed. For she'd stayed in bed for the past week, she contracted what she would call "jelly legs". She wobbled and had to grip tightly onto Rachel and Santana's forearms to steady herself.

"See? Because you made me stay in bed I can't stand properly," she jokingly blamed Dr. Costner who was watching from behind.

He laughed and walked forward with chart in hand. "Well, you've been doing quite well. And I hope you will still consider the options of getting a hearing aid." Her grin faltered but stayed. "You are starting to lose your hearing now and it seems that the worst of the situation has taken toll. You will most likely lose your hearing over the next couple of weeks," he said. "I know I shouldn't burst your bubble, but I am your doctor and I also know your friends couldn't bring themselves to tell you that they have noticed the effects on you."

"I know," Quinn said and gulped. "I noticed it myself, actually. I was just…too afraid to face it." Her voice cracked and Rachel squeezed Quinn's hand. "Do you have pamphlets for this kind of things? I'm not really familiar with it."

Dr. Costner nodded with a smile. "I will have the nurse give you some pamphlets and offer you some precise details on it when you check out. I'll be over to your home to check on you. And remember, stay in bed. I have a spy at your house if you do anything against my orders." He winked at Rachel who mock saluted him.

Quinn rolled her eyes and inclined her head to indicate that she would. Then she cocked her head and smirked at the doctor. "You seem to have forgotten that I am a spy as well – well sort of." She shrugged.

He raised a teasing brow. "No you aren't. You're not gonna be in action for the next week. So get your bum warmed up because you ain't gonna move for another seven days."

"Fine," she grunted.

* * *

She certainly didn't need help getting into bed since she'd been in bed for so long. So she waved them off when they were crowding her, grabbing her arm and basically pulling her onto the bed. She growled at them and threw her head forward with a grunt.

"Stop pestering me, for Christ's sake. I can get into bed just fine. Just get out of my way," she grumbled and glared at whoever that protested, including Rachel. "I said I can do this. I'm not a freaking disabled person." She kept grumbling under her breath as she pulled the covers and climbed into it, pulling the covers over her again. "See? I'm perfectly fine."

Rachel sighed at Quinn's childish antics and moved forward, adjusting the blankets and sat next to her. "Okay, you're fine. Whatever. Now, do you need anything? Water? Food? I can fetch them for you before I go on set."

Quinn looked around her and then back at Rachel. "Where's my phone?"

"Not here."

"Rachel Barbra Berry, where is my phone?" Quinn enunciated each word warningly.

Rachel, as always, did not back down. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at the blonde and brushed her hair back. "Like I said, not here." When Quinn opened her mouth, Rachel pointed a finger at her. "Using my full name won't work either. You're not to use your phone until you've recovered which is not for another week."

"I have a job, woman. I need my phone to do my job," Quinn insisted. "Dr. Costner said I can't get out of bed. He didn't say I can't do my job in bed. I'm fully capable of working in bed. And get me my laptop for god's sake."

They glared at each other, but Quinn's glare was still better so Rachel blinked with a sigh. She turned back to see all of her friends watching both of them with identical amused expressions on their faces. Rachel rolled her eyes and waved her hand in the air as if the action could get them to do something. But they stood still.

Rachel huffed and stood up. "Watch her while I go get her stuff." She stalked out of the room, leaving a string of grumbles behind. Some of which involved the words "the most stubborn human being" and "I can't believe I'm actually doing this".

Santana swung back around with a smirk on face. Quinn raised an unamused brow at her. "Not even a month and you've already got her wrapped around your finger."

Quinn released a chuckle and shook her head. "I would think it's the other way around, actually," she replied, gesturing at her ear and then down her body.

The Latina's smirk dimmed slightly. She stepped forward and reached out to take her hand. "You're sure you're okay?" she asked softly.

The blonde nodded reassuringly, squeezing her hand back. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. In fact, I don't think anything can happen with me staying in bed for hours on end. And I have some pamphlets to go through. I also need some time alone," she added quietly, pleading Santana with her eyes to not ask further questions.

Santana understood. It was rare for her to not understand her best friend. So she nodded. "Okay. Britts and I have a movie date anyway," she said with a smile. Quinn grinned and nodded. "So I'm gonna go now. But call me if you need anything, okay?" She leaned down to kiss Quinn on her forehead before bidding goodbye, leaving with Brittany in tow.

Sam and Puck stayed behind. Kurt already left earlier to get everything ready to Rachel could go on time. They lingered at the doorway and Quinn stared at them with an amused smile.

"So which one of you is gonna stay?" Quinn asked. "She must have asked one of you to stay to look after me."

Sam grinned at Quinn's words. He kind of loved how Quinn knew what Rachel would do. "Actually, she didn't ask either of us to stay to look after you." She raised a skeptical brow. "She said and I quote 'Both of you know Quinn too well. You're gonna go soft on her if she ever gives you her signature puppy look. I'm not letting you two stay'."

Quinn laughed. "Then who did she ask?"

Rachel strode in at the exact moment, laptop and cellphone in both hands, with Marley Rose following her. Quinn's amused expression went to being surprised. Well, Marley Rose could do. Rachel had an annoyed look on her face as she put down Quinn's items on the bedside table.

"There, you happy now?" she more or less groaned.

Quinn smirked and nodded. "Very."

The brunette huffed and gestured at Marley who was standing at the bedpost with a sheepish look. "Miss Marley Rose here will be my spy while I'm gone. I trust that she will not let you do anything you aren't supposed to do." She looked at Marley with a raised brow and Marley nodded quickly, afraid that Rachel would blow up on her if she did not.

"We'll see about that," Quinn murmured under her breath which was still caught by Rachel.

Rachel huffed – again – and turned back to Marley. "You will look after her properly, right?" she queried, daring her to say no with her tone.

Marley nodded again. "Yes, ma'am, yes I will." She swallowed and passed an apologetic look at Quinn before looking back at Rachel.

"Good," Rachel approved and nodded. "As much as I love you, your puppy dog look won't work on me either so zip it." Quinn frowned and blushed slightly at the flippant love declaration. Rachel's phone rang and she glanced at it before backing up to Quinn. "I have to leave now. Kurt's calling again. Be good." She flashed a smile at Quinn before striding out, Puck and Sam in tow.

The front door slammed a couple seconds later, telling the two people in the bedroom that they were at last alone in the pool house. Marley remained standing at the bedpost, rocking back and forth on her heels, unsure what to do.

"I don't bite, y'know," Quinn drawled.

"Huh? What?" Marley clambered before getting back to her senses. "Oh! No, I'm just…not used to being alone with you and not having you ordering me around."

"Wow, you make sound like a tyrant," the blonde teased with a chuckle.

Marley's eyes widened and she frantically shook her head with her hands waving in the air wildly as if they could speak. "No, I mean…you're like my boss and I usually work on your orders and I'm not usually this free and I…oh my god I don't know what I'm doing." She buried her face in her hands in embarrassment.

Quinn chuckled. She couldn't help but adore how cute Marley's acting like right now. "Relax, I don't bite," Quinn repeated her previous sentiment. She gazed at Marley for a second longer and she decided that she would definitely try dating Marley if she wasn't in love with Rachel already – and if Marley was into girls. "Are you gay?" Shit. Quinn squeezed her eyes shut and mentally slapped herself. For god's sake, the morphine's making her delusional and crazy.

She could swear Marley's eyes couldn't have gone bigger. "No!" she quickly said, a little too loudly. She flinched at her own voice and cleared her throat. "I mean, no, I'm not gay. I mean, I'm like bisexual."

The blonde nodded and tilted her head. "You really _are_ nervous," she commented quietly. "Am I really that scary?" Marley swallowed and gingerly nodded. Quinn sighed and shrugged. "Well, you have to forgive me. I'm from the army and you know, Azimio Adams is a big time asshole so I have to go tough on him, ergo on you guys too."

"It's okay," Marley replied with a friendly smile. "I'm glad you're tough on him. He could really be such a jerk sometimes."

"Try constantly," Quinn retorted dryly, rolling her eyes.

Marley laughed and nodded. "Yeah."

Quinn hummed and turned to her laptop. She gestured at it and smiled tightly at Marley. "Can you…" she drifted off and gestured at the device again. She hated this. She hated having to ask people for help on things she could usually do on her own. She just hated it.

The younger woman watched for a moment longer before the realization dawned upon her and she nodded, maneuvering around the bed to set up the laptop for Quinn. She plugged in the charger and gave Quinn a thumb up. Quinn offered a grateful smile before booting it on.

As they waited for the log on screen to come on, Quinn settled back in her bed. "I'm sorry for troubling you," Quinn muttered. "You could be out there on set, actually doing something but here you are, stuck with me."

Marley stared at her before she glanced at the chair next to the bed. She looked back at Quinn, asking silently for permission to sit. Quinn nodded and Marley sat down. She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I don't mind actually," she said with a small grin. "I mean, I'm kind of tired for the past week because you haven't been around and Azimio has no idea how tired he drives the entire team while he does absolutely nothing. And I can't argue with him because he might kick me off the team and I…I need this job."

Quinn raised her brow. "He's been torturing you guys," she said with a slight menace underneath her tone. She scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. "That son of a bitch is such an asshole."

"Yeah, so I was actually glad that Miss Berry chose me for this job, y'know. I mean, I get to do nothing for once and still get paid," she said with a little chuckle. "Not that I don't want to do my job. I'd just rather do it under your leadership than his," she added nervously.

"I'm sorry, what?" Quinn watched Marley in confusion. Shit. She had to learn to read lips now. She grimaced and groaned. "Guess I really have to go through the pamphlets later," she murmured and sighed.

"What?"

Quinn sighed again and motioned at her bandaged ear. "This ear of mine, it's slowly going to be nearly useless. Probably over the next couple of weeks." She shrugged helplessly. "Guess that's the price of trying to protect your boss."

"Oh," Marley muttered. "I have heard of the stab. I just didn't think it was that serious."

"Well, it's the ear. You can't really expect anything less," Quinn said weakly.

"I'm sorry. But I think you're still gonna do great." Quinn smiled at Marley gratefully. "Guess I have to speak louder for you to hear?" she said nervously.

The blonde typed in her password and successfully logged onto her computer. She turned to Marley with a nod as the security feed program loaded. She grinned teasingly. "You know, you need to stop being so nervous about me. I don't bite," she repeated. "You can talk to me like you talk to other people – just louder. I'm not Miss Fabray in here; on this bed. I'm just Quinn. You don't have to be so careful with your words."

Marley watched her warily. "Seriously?"

Quinn threw her head back and laughed. "Yes, seriously. Well, not on the field, of course. You still have to respect my authority when we're out there. I can't allow Azimio undermine me because I've gotten friendly with one of you but yeah, when we're alone, you can treat me like how you treat other people."

The other woman nodded in understanding and smiled at Quinn. "Thank you, Miss Fabray." Quinn looked away from the program and gave her a look. "Quinn," she corrected.

The blonde nodded with a smile. She turned back to the program and set it to a week ago – the time when they finally returned from the set and all hell broke loose – fast forwarded the feed and watched. "So has anything peculiar happened during my absence?"

"I would think Sam or Puck have reported to you if anything happened," Marley remarked skeptically.

Quinn smirked. This woman was picking up fast. She was already treating her as the same level as she was. "Well, considering Miss Berry is such a bossypant and practically manages what should be done with me for now, I would think not."

There was a laugh before she said, "Nothing peculiar happened. We did our rounds. I took the liberty of crashing in the living room of the mansion, in case anything happened. Even though Miss Berry insisted that I go home. But I just wanted to make sure and since you're not around, I thought I could do it for you."

"Did you guys check the security feed from that night?"

"Yes, and we just saw a black hooded figure just like last time when the pool house got broken into. There were no facial features or anything for us to scan in the database. So nada, nothing."

"This one?"

Marley leaned forward and watched with Quinn. She nodded. "Yeah, that one."

It was half an hour before Quinn went to bed. She scolded herself quietly again for not making her nightly rounds. She was so stupid. She shouldn't have thought that just because it had been four weeks since the last attack, it should be okay for a night. The army should have taught her that.

The black figure, for some reason, was capable of sneaking in past the tight security measures and sneaked into Rachel's bedroom no less to leave the letter. She watched as the man – or rather Dustin Goolsby, if she was correct – skulked up the stairs, carefully avoiding the cameras. What he didn't know was that she'd hidden a dozen others in unseen spaces, such as in the plants and some.

Basics.

"Amateur," she couldn't help but whisper.

Fifteen minutes later and he walked out of the bedroom, sneaking out again. She watched him head out the backdoor and towards the pool house. She frowned. She clicked to the camera outside the pool house and watched him rounding the house to the pool. He went to the other side and started climbing the wall and expertly jumped to the other side.

There was only one person she knew who could do that without any flaw other than she herself. Dustin Goolsby. The man who taught her exactly how to do that.

"I think I recognize that move," Marley muttered, taking over the mouse pad and rewinding it. She slowed it down to a normal speed. As each second ticked, her eyes grew wider. "I think…I think that's one of the producers of the film."

"Dustin Goolsby," they said together. Marley in shock and Quinn in despair.

She'd been hoping all week that it wouldn't be him. Dustin Goolsby had been her officer and he had been her _friend_. He was the only one she'd told about Rachel. He was the only one in the warzone who she trusted to have her back. He was the only one who would sit down with her outside her camp, staring out at the dry land. He was the only one who actually listened. She considered him a confidante. When he finally decided to not continue his contract, she was devastated because she knew she would miss him and she knew she won't have as good a companion as him anymore.

And now, everything was pointing at him. Her gut was telling her it was him. Marley's statement was telling her that it was him. It was him, Dustin Goolsby, who was behind all these shenanigans. It was him who put that hole in her ear. It was him who hired men to nearly kill her. It was all him. And she couldn't help but find it very hard to believe. However, the proof was right there in front of her. She couldn't _not_ accept it; she couldn't _not _doubt him. She had to face it. She had to face him. That was the most terrifying among everything because she _didn't_ want to face him. She didn't want to confront him. She wanted it to not be him.

"How…how do you know that Dustin Goolsby's move?" she asked a little breathlessly. "Wait, wait, sorry," she stammered, "can you…can you fetch me a glass of water first?"

Marley hurried to the kitchen and came in not a moment longer with a glass of water in hand. She gently put her hand on Quinn's neck and helped her drink the water. When Quinn had enough, she put the glass down on the table.

She moved back and stared at Quinn nervously. "Are you alright?" Quinn nodded quietly, gulped and motioned for Marley to answer her. Marley watched her warily as she said, "He was in a seminar once when I was still a trainee in the high end security guard program. I guess you could call him a guest mentor. He demonstrated some hand-to-hand combat skills and showed us how to climb a wall like that. He said we could try but he'd only seen one person who could do it flawlessly."

Quinn closed her eyes at that and took a slow and deep breath.

_I have to say you're the only person who could pull that off flawlessly, Fabray._

"Yeah," she whispered. "That person would have to be me." She flashed Marley a painful smile. "God, this is so messed up." She moved the laptop off her lap and pulled her knees up and then leaned her forehead against them, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Marley looked confused and then after a moment of running things through her mind, she realized the whole thing. Her lips formed a small 'O' and her eyes turned apologetic. "Yeah, I guess it is kind of messed up," she whispered.

Quinn looked up above her knees at the door, as if Dustin would come in at any minute. Part of her view was blocked by the top of her knees. Her vision was blurry. She surreptitiously wiped her palm over her eyes, swiping the tears away. She sniffed and gave her companion a watery smile, nodding into her knees.

The other woman smiled sadly at her and then jerked her head towards the computer. "So what are you gonna do? About him?"

The bodyguard turned to the computer, watching the frozen figure of a possible-Dustin Goolsby on screen. "I have to confront of him. I have to ask him. I have to arrest him if it's him. It's standard protocol."

"But it's not just standard protocol with you, is it?" Marley inquired. Quinn narrowed her eyes at her. Marley shook her head. "Not Miss Berry."

"Do you know something, Marley?"

The woman laughed dryly and looked down at her feet. She looked up again with the same sad smile, as if she pitied Quinn. "You know, I notice things too. I'm a pretty observant person and others might not be able to see it or feel it, but the tension and the looks between you and Miss Berry aren't that hard to miss."

Quinn released a similar laugh before turning to the door again. "Do you know our story?" she said after long moments of silence.

Marley's whispered 'no' could barely reach her nearly deaf ear. She squeezed her eyes shut at the reminder of her disability and her history with Rachel.

She smiled into the space and reached out to close the laptop lid. She moved her eyes back to Marley and shrugged. "It'd be best if you don't." Marley raised a skeptical brow. "And I also don't wanna talk about it."

Marley nodded in understanding. "Can I ask you a question?" Quinn nodded. "Why do you still…love her so much? Because it seems to me that she's broken quite a substantial part of you. And that's not forgivable commonly."

"Well, Miss Rachel Berry is a force to be reckoned with. She's not _commonly_," Quinn answered with a smirk. The smirk turned into a soft smile. Others would say it was a smile she only reserved for Rachel. "She's not _commonly_," she repeated.

"I get it."

"So I'm probably gonna land a punch in on Dustin. I'll probably cry because he's the only one in the army I've ever told about Rachel. He was my confidante. He was a close friend. So…yeah," she concluded with a lift of her shoulders.

"And I won't judge."

Quinn laughed and nodded. "What about you?" Quinn's smile turned into a teasing one. She reached forward to nudge Marley in the forearm. "Do you have someone special out there?" Marley grinned and bit her lower lip. "Oh my god, there _is _someone! Spill!"

"I never thought of you as one to gossip, Quinn," Marley remarked.

"Hey! I'm bedridden and as far as I'm concerned, I'm willing to gossip as long as I won't feel so bored. Now spill."

"Okay, fine!" Marley played with her fingers and cleared her throat. "There is someone I met when I was in the academy. He's now the head of a senator's security team. I don't remember who. We're meeting for a drink this Sunday."

"What's his name?" Quinn asked, a hungry look on her face.

Marley couldn't help but laugh at the look on her face. "Jake."

"Jake who?"

"Puckerman."

The blonde's eyes widened and she nearly collapsed with laughter. Marley stared at her with a bemused look as she cried tears of laughter. Quinn was wheezing when she was done and she threw up a hand to indicate that she still had to calm down. When she was completely calm, she was breathing harshly, lying on the bed with her knees curled up to her chest.

"What's so funny?" Marley asked.

Quinn released another laugh before she pulled herself up to a sitting position. "Jake Puckerman," she said slowly and laughed again. "Have you ever wondered about Puck's full name?"

Marley squinted and slowly drawled, "No?"

"Has Jake ever told you about a brother?"

"Yes." Marley was still trying to figure out where this all led to and then her eyes widened. She gasped and gaped at Quinn. She shrugged with a grin. "Oh my god," Marley muttered as her eyes glanced at every corner of this room as she pieced every piece together in her mind. "Oh my god."

"That's what's funny," Quinn commented. "This is priceless."

* * *

"Cut! Great job, both of you! You can go home and get some rest now. See you tomorrow!"

Rachel's tears subsided and the arms around her loosened and eventually released her. She sat upright on the beige colored armchair and wiped her eyes with her sleeves. She could feel Kitty's presence next to her. She turned to her with a smile.

"That was really intense," she said with a laugh.

Kitty grinned. "Yeah, it was." She stretched and yawned. "I'm just really glad today is finally over. I need to go home and catch some sleep."

Rachel smiled and nodded. "Yeah."

Kitty's eyes turned into concern and curiosity. "So is Miss Fabray okay? I haven't seen her around and I heard about the incident at your place."

"She's…alright. She needs to stay in bed for another week so she won't be around for now," she explained, standing up, eager to go home to see Quinn.

Kitty hummed. "I hope she catches the person faster. It's creepy how much they want to threaten you."

"You tell me," Rachel drawled and yawned. "Well, I gotta go home now. I'll see you tomorrow." She flashed a smile at her co-star and walked out of the scene set, heading for her trailer. She could hear hurried footfalls behind her and she turned to see Finn grinning at her. "Hey, Finn!"

He raised a hand and walked next to her. "Hey," he greeted. "So I haven't got a chance to ask you just now but I wanna know if I can stay over at your place tonight." She frowned at him, her eyes questioning. "I didn't get to see Quinn when she got out of the hospital today. I wanna see how she's doing."

"Oh." Rachel smiled and nodded. "Yeah sure, no problem. I'll get Kurt to prepare the guest room for you" They walked in silence again. "Thank you," she broke the silence. He glanced at her in confusion. "For being worried. I know Quinn hasn't been very friendly with you before. It's good to know that you've let that go and make friends with her."

Finn laughed and shrugged. "Well, she protects you and she seems very responsible with all the effort she takes to protect you. I thought I could make the effort to try to know her." His smile turned into a teasing one and he waggled his brows at her. "And I want to know what's so awesome about her that keeps you so in love with her after four years."

She playfully stepped on his foot and he yelped. She laughed and stopped at the steps leading to the door of her trailer. She sobered and turned to him with a soft smile. "Do you know now?"

His playful grin softened as well. He nodded and shoved his hands into his slack pockets. "Yeah, I know now. I'm glad you found each other. She's a keeper." She grinned and touched his arm gratefully. "And thank you, you know, for trusting me enough to tell your story. I could've called the tabloids and told them but…you trust me not to."

"You're a good friend, Finn," Rachel commented and then leaned in to kiss him on his cheek. "I hope you find someone very special soon."

He laughed again and nodded. "Me too." He slightly turned to walk away. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah. See you later."

Rachel took a short shower in the tiny bathroom in the trailer and changed into a beige T-shirt and a pair of loose jeans. She tied her hair into a messy ponytail and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She could see exhausted eyes and tired lines all over her face. Her body lost the usual powerful stance she carried with her every day.

She sighed and put her hands on the back of the chair in front of the vanity, leaning against it. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, taking slow deep breaths. She offered herself a couple minutes of reprieve and a break to her consciousness. God, she was _so_ tired. She hadn't been able to catch a good night's sleep for so long and she didn't know how long she could handle this.

She didn't know who it was out there who wanted her gotten rid of so badly. She didn't know anything. She also knew that whatever Quinn and Santana found out over the last month, they wouldn't tell her. More like_ Quinn _wouldn't tell her, which meant the others wouldn't tell her either.

She wanted all this to be over. Now. Immediately. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to actually enjoy Quinn's presence. She wanted to stop worrying over Quinn's safety. She wanted it all to stop. A soft whimper escaped her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. Goddamn it.

A knock on the door startled her from her reprieve. She looked around her frantically before recalling that she was alone in her trailer. She released a breath of relief before gathering her stuff and slung her bag over her shoulder. She opened the door to see Kurt standing at the top of the steps, whistling a show tune under his breath. He turned to her and his eyes were filled with unease.

"You okay? You've been in there for quite long," Kurt commented quietly.

She gave him a smile to ease his worry. "Yeah, yeah," she said and sighed again. "I'm just tired, is all." He nodded understandably. "We should go home now. Oh, and get Finn's room ready. He wants to stay over."

He raised a brow and she chuckled. "He wants to see how Quinn is doing, surprisingly."

"Really?" His tone was skeptical and she couldn't blame him for it.

"I know right."

"I guess some good came out of recent events, huh?" he stated.

She looked up at him for a moment before her lips curled up. "I guess they did."

* * *

Quinn was dozing off to Marley's humming when she heard the door opened and a stream of light shone in. She groaned and frowned, turning her head away from the light. She could hear a number of footsteps approaching and tried to ignore it.

She could feel her blanket being pulled and adjusted and gentle fingers brushing her hair away from her forehead. She would recognize the fingers anyway and if it wasn't for her being so tired, she would've opened her eyes and greeted them herself. But nope, sleep was her priority now.

So she merely grumbled, "Leave me alone, Rachel."

Rachel's soft chuckle reached her ears and she nearly smiled at that. The fingers didn't cease stroking her scalp and to be honest, it felt good. So she kept quiet. She heard a few hushed whispers. Probably Rachel and Marley talking. Whatever, she didn't care. She was grateful for her flawed hearing, for once.

"I'll talk to her tomorrow morning." Her frown deepened. Finn? A few shushes were passed around the room to chastise Finn for talking too loud. "Sorry," he muttered.

She pursed her lips to keep herself from grinning and giggling. She certainly did not need to give them the idea that they could sit around and disturb her when she was trying to sleep.

Muttered words reached her ear and then she heard the chair Marley was sitting scraped softly across the carpet. Then nothing. The light was gone and she was back in utter darkness, which she was glad for.

The fingers though, they were still there stroking her hair. Guess Rachel decided to stay behind. She felt the other side of the bed dip and a body was there, sitting next to her. Rachel pulled the blanket over them and kept on stroking. She hummed a tune under her breath, loud enough for Quinn to sleep. It was a lullaby. But Quinn was too exhausted to remember what it was.

She felt Rachel land a kiss on her forehead and she snuggled into her pillow, suddenly feeling that it was much easier to fall asleep with that familiar, comforting warm body next to her. The lullaby floating in her ears slowly faded as she eventually fell into an abyss of slumber.

* * *

**the end...i'm just kidding. it can't be the end! of course not! so what do you think? tell me by reviewing. see you next chapter!**


	14. big guy

**dedicated to Cory Allan Michael Monteith**

**May 11, 1982 - July 13, 2013**

**you will forever be missed**

* * *

Dr. Costner visited her two days later. He checked her wounds, pupils and hearing, changed her dressings and refilled her medications. He sat down, making small talk with her for a half an hour. He said she was one of his most intriguing patients.

"Your stubborn attitude is certainly not one to be reckoned with."

Quinn wasn't sure if she should be flattered or offended by that comment. Before he left, he sobered and gazed at her with all the seriousness he could muster. The smile on her face faded and she took a deep breath to prepare herself. Here comes the real talk, she thought. Dr. Costner glanced at the pile of pamphlets on the bedside table and turned to her.

"So have you made your decision yet?" he asked.

She frowned down at the pamphlets beside her and contemplated her options. "I'm not sure if I will ever be ready for this."

He nodded in agreement. "I understand. It's hard for anyone to come to terms with such shocking news in such a short time period. I don't know what I'd do if I lost even a small part of my hearing. You are exceptionally strong and I admire you for that." He paused to wait for her to look back at him. When she did, he continued, "You also have to face the fact that you won' be able to hear as much as you used to if you don't get a hearing aid. Granted, it's not going to give you your full auditory capability. But your…impaired hearing could improve, however slightly, with the aid."

She gulped. "This is so scary," she whispered with a humorless laugh.

He smiled sympathetically. "I know. You don't have to make your decision right now, but it would be better if you made it as soon as possible, because I have to get the device fitted specifically to suit you. And you're going be back at work once the week is up, I know you are," he added with a teasing smile.

She laughed and reached out for the pamphlets, flipping through them silently for a few minutes. She knew which one she wanted, she just needed to be sure it was the best fit for her line of work.

She stared down at her choice of hearing aid; the picture seemed to glare at her, taunting and urging her to just get it. She took a deep breath and then looked back up with a small smile tugging on her lips.

* * *

Rachel had been curious about what kind of hearing aid Quinn had chosen. It was obvious to her that a choice had been made when she noticed the disappearance of the pamphlets from the bedside table after Dr. Costner's departure. Her concern and caution overrode her curiosity and she kept herself from asking Quinn for fear of being insensitive.

So she didn't ask about the hearing aid. She listened to Dr. Costner's update of Quinn's current health state. He gave his official clearance to get out of bed two days later – when the week was up and Quinn would want to get out of bed and get back to work. She thanked him for making the trip.

The brunette had witnessed her restlessness increasing as each day passed and her aggravation at being bedridden was showing more and more. Marley had been a good sport though. She had taken good care of Quinn over the past five days, which was a lot more than Rachel expected because Quinn Fabray was quite hard to be in the same room with when she was aggravated.

Quinn's pool house was always Rachel's first stop upon arriving home every night. Sometimes she would show up to find a sleeping Quinn and other times she could see Quinn playing Scrabble – she won every single time – against Marley or watching some show on TV.

The blonde had also showed less hostility towards her nowadays and Rachel was thankful for that. They could laugh now and sometimes Quinn would let her hug her. It hadn't happened before the time she had lain in Quinn's bed and sang to her. She appreciated that Quinn was trying and she promised that she would give her as much time as she needed.

There were just a few more scenes to be shot before the movie was completely wrapped. Some of the staff had already taken their leave and a few cast members had said adios, having already filmed their last scenes. Rachel, of course, being the protagonist, still had roughly two more weeks ahead of her before she would bid her own goodbye.

Somehow, she missed seeing Quinn standing in the corner and observing her with watchful and admiring eyes. She missed hearing Quinn order people around. She missed having Quinn staring at her like she was the only girl in the world.

"Berry." She snapped out of her thoughts to Santana snapping her fingers in her face.

Rachel started and pushed back into the couch. "Santana!" she gasped, her hand on her chest as she heaved. "God, do you really have to creep up on me like that?"

"Excuse me! I've been standing here for five minutes trying to get your attention, hobbit." Santana snapped and crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot in displeasure.

Rachel stared at the Latina for a second longer before blinking and letting out a breathy "oh". She sat upright on the couch and nodded. "Sorry, I was just…thinking about some things. What do you want?"

"Why aren't you working today?" Santana asked.

"I have an off day today. It's been a manic couple of days on set and Dustin decided to let us have a day to rest. They had to uh…review the clips and do some stuff, I guess," she mumbled with a little frown. She did not notice how Santana tensed at the mention of the executive producer. "Also, Dr. Costner was visiting Quinn today and I would have asked for a day off anyway. It's a good thing, I guess, that Dustin let us off today."

"How long until you wrap?" Santana inquired.

"Um…I'm estimating another week or two," she muttered. She stood up and flashed Santana a smile before making her way to the kitchen and toward the backdoor. "I'm gonna go have a look at Quinn." Santana followed her. "Why are you following me?" Rachel asked over her shoulder, frowning at the Latina.

"She's my best friend too," Santana mentioned, raising an eyebrow in a silent dare for Rachel to protest her coming along.

Rachel hummed and walked down the cobbled path to the pool house. They hadn't even opened the front door yet when they heard raucous laughter sounding from inside the building. They shared a look before Rachel proceeded to open the front door. They paced towards Quinn's room to see the usual gang surrounding the blonde. Surprisingly, Finn, Marley, Kurt and Blaine were there. She thought Kurt had gone to run errands and Blaine had been at rehearsal.

The people in the bedroom didn't seem to realize their presence because they had not stopped laughing. It must've been something Quinn said because she had that smug look on her face that Rachel often found both annoying and sexy.

She gulped at the sight and cleared her throat, drawing attention to her and her Latina companion. She raised a skeptical brow at them. "I didn't know there's a party," she drawled. "And Marley, hi. It's a surprise to see you here."

Marley had a wary look on her face but the light in her eyes did not diminish. She glanced at Quinn with a grin before turning back to Rachel. "I was doing my rounds and I thought I could come and take a look at Quinn. After all, the doctor came and I wanted to know what he said."

Rachel felt a small twinge of jealousy in her heart. It had only been a few days and Quinn and Marley had already grown so close. She turned to Quinn who was staring at her with an amused look. Rachel's eyes widened slightly as she realized that the green-eyed monster in her was caught in act. She cleared her throat harder and she could see Santana stifle a smile behind her hand as she also realized the reason behind Rachel's stiff reaction. The actress threw a glare before looking at Marley with a smile as she tried her best to get rid of the jealousy boiling in her.

The actress threw a glare before looking at Marley with a smile as she tried her best to get rid of the jealousy boiling in her. "That's nice of you, Marley." The blue-eyed girl nodded.

"And when did you get here, Finn?"

Finn shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled his dopey smile at her. "It's an off day so I came this morning. I looked for you but I couldn't find you. So I came here. You don't mind, do you?" he asked carefully.

She shook her head instantly and waved her hand in dismissal. She walked in with Santana and they automatically gave her space right next to Quinn. Rachel smiled down at her as she reached out to take her hand. The blonde gripped tightly and nodded at her in reassurance to the silent question of her health.

"I'm okay," she mouthed.

Rachel's smile widened however slightly and she placed a kiss on Quinn's forehead. She could feel everybody's eyes burning into them but they were lost in each other. She would take as much intimacy with Quinn as she could. She didn't wanna miss out on anything. She stood upright and subconsciously brushed the blonde's hair back.

"So I'm gonna guess that you're pretty excited for Monday," she said with a teasing smile and a raised eyebrow.

"I get to get out of this bed. I'm ecstatic," Quinn deadpanned, earning a small laugh from the brunette. "Dr. Costner…um…he said he's gonna have my…hearing aid on Sunday." She gulped, her smile dimming a little. She still wasn't comfortable with the idea of wearing a hearing aid for the rest of her life.

Suddenly, the air in the room seemed to have grown thicker and tenser. And then Marley broke it. "I'm sure you can still excel in protecting Miss Berry. After all, you're the number one material that Miss Lopez sought out."

Rachel couldn't have been more thankful for Marley when she saw the grin on the blonde's face. Quinn closed her eyes for awhile before reopening them and nodding to herself in reassurance. Santana, on the other hand, had a somewhat smug smirk on her face and she threw Quinn an adoring look to tell her that Marley was absolutely right.

Quinn looked around the room as her friends chatted with each other and sometimes engaged her in an entirely ridiculous topic. Rachel could see the look in her eyes and she leaned down to whisper in Quinn's ear.

"It's lucky we have them, don't you think?" she whispered with a soft smile.

Quinn turned to her and started a little. Their eyes locked, their faces were only a few inches apart, and they could practically feel the others breath. Quinn's breath hitched slightly and Rachel did not miss that. Her lips twitched. She didn't make any move to lean in or anything. She just waited for Quinn's next action.

The injured bodyguard finally grinned and nodded. "Yeah," she said breathily. "It is."

* * *

It felt extremely weird. And unsurprisingly uncomfortable.

She had been preparing herself for the past forty-eight hours. She had braced herself; but when Dr. Costner came with that little box in his hand and a booklet manual in the other, she very nearly had a panic attack. She had rushed into the bathroom and bent over the toilet bowl, throwing up the bacon sandwich she'd had that morning.

The anxiety. The nerves. The fear. The need to admit that she now had this physical flaw that would affect her for the rest of her life. They had all been hogging her for hours and days on end. She had just never faced them. They were the demons she hid from for years now. She'd been running from them. She unexpectedly ran into them when she saw Rachel again. And then she ran again. She never actually stopped to face and fight them. And now, seeing the hearing aid was the last straw. She was facing the demons.

Rachel was there pulling her hair back as she rutted and coughed and choked. The grimace on her face was substantial and she had moisture at the edges of her eyes. She held it in though, as she patted Quinn's back, muttering soothing words into her ears to ease her emotions and her headache.

Quinn groaned and leaned her head against the rim of the toilet bowl, disregarding how unsanitary that was. She breathed harshly, coughing every now and then. She hated being so weak. She hated having an audience witnessing her moment of weakness. She hated that she needed something like a fucking hearing aid to help her. She _hated_ it all.

When she finally composed herself, she stood up on wobbly legs and headed to the sink. She twisted the faucet and splashed water on her face, wiping it with a towel before walking out with Rachel in tow. Santana, Brittany, Sam, Puck and Finn – the guy seemed to be here a lot lately, which Quinn didn't mind – were occupying all corners of the room while Dr. Costner waited by the foot of the bed.

They watched her tentatively as she took slow steps to the bed and sat down. Rachel never left her side. Dr. Costner appraised Quinn for a moment before nodding to himself and unpacking the box. Inside was another metal box. He took it out and lifted the lid, removing the very item that was going to stick with her for the rest of her life.

She stared at it. She put extra focus on it. Her eyes zoomed in at the tiny, foreign object. Everything around her was a blur as she glare-stared at the object. Dr. Costner moved next to her and held it in front of her, a small smile on his face.

Quinn took a deep readying breath and frowned a little. She gulped, the aftertaste of vomit strong in her mouth. She could feel the bile rising in her throat and she suppressed it. She tentatively reached out, hesitated, and then took it. Her mouth opened a little. She was holding it. She had it. And she was gonna wear it.

It was flesh colored to help camouflage the device from people who didn't pay too close of attention. She rolled it in her hands, observing. It was an inner ear hearing aid, which meant it would rest inside the ear canal, rather than behind her ear like many common, older model aids.. She chose it because it would be inside her ear and wouldn't easily fall out. It was also small and easy. She knew it might be difficult to fine tune to her preferences, her but she felt that it would be most suitable. It also offered some listening advantages that the other hearing aids offered did not.

She looked up at Dr. Costner, who was waiting patiently for her to finish exploring the object. He raised his brows at her. She released her breath and then nodded, brushing her hair behind her right ear and gestured at it for him to make his move.

He smiled and began talking. He explained the shape and size. He demonstrated the way to put it in her ear appropriately and then asked her to do it. When she failed the first time, he demonstrated again. His patience was endless and he never showed even the slightest annoyance. She tried it a few more times before she finally succeeded, resulting in a proud smile from Dr. Costner.

He asked her take it out again to teach her how to adjust the amplifier, switch the T-coil and regulate the microphone. When he was done explaining, he asked her if she understood, and she nodded in agreement. Then he asked her to show him how to do all those things. She did them to his satisfaction and he finally nodded in approval.

"Alright then. Now, if you're ready, you can put it in and start putting it to good use," he said softly, tilting his head at her.

Her friends watched from her bedside. Rachel had her hand resting on Quinn's knee so she could take it for some familiarity and comfort. She watched the emotions sweeping past Quinn's eyes as her face remained stone cold. She could see the emotions fighting for dominance. Rachel squeezed Quinn's knee lightly, drawing her attention to her.

Rachel offered her a gentle smile and nodded slowly. "You can do it," she whispered. "I know you can."

The blonde gazed at her for god-knows-how-long before she nodded to herself and smiled. She stared at the device once more and then proceeded to put it in her right ear. It took her a couple of seconds to get it right. She could feel that she got it right when she heard the click and everything seemed louder when everyone was silent. She slowly put down her hand.

Again, it felt extremely weird. And unsurprisingly uncomfortable.

Her hand landed on her lap as she lowered her head and closed her eyes. She listened. She felt the thing pricking into her ear. She felt the itch to take it out and get rid of it, but she clenched her hands into tight fists. She forced herself to get used to it. She forced herself to just accept it.

_I am near deaf and I need hearing aid._ She kept ranting the same phrase over and over again before she finally snapped her eyes open. She lifted her head and saw that everybody was watching her anxiously.

"How do you feel?" She turned to Finn and stared. The words were louder, but they still weren't as loud as they were before the incident. She had expected it, so she wasn't exactly disappointed because they were at least _louder_.

So she smiled at her newly-gained friend and said, "Louder."

* * *

Finn stayed with her after the doctor gave her more meds to regulate her body and the manual to refer to if she had any questions about her new device. Rachel had to go back to work and Santana had taken it upon herself to take control of the security team after a slight schedule mishap that occurred under Azimio's control while Quinn was out of commission.

Rachel had made sure everything was taken care of and asked Quinn how she was feeling more than twenty times before Santana had grown impatient and pushed her out the door. They bade her one last goodbye before they left.

She still felt uncomfortable with the hearing aid. It felt like something was pricking into her ear and it itched. Despite the discomfort, her hearing had improved so she left it in. She knew she would get used to it eventually.

He sat by her bed and put down a stack of comics on the tray table in front of her. She raised a brow at him as he flashed her a goofy grin. He ruffled his own hair and picked up one from the stack and showed it to her. She stared at X-Men with that weird mask of his on the cover before looking back at Finn.

"Why do I have comics in my bedroom?" she asked skeptically.

His grin stayed intact and wide as he practically shoved the comic book into her hands. "Well, when I'm sick, I read comic books. These are from my collection. They're like my babies or something. So you should really feel special that I'm letting you read them. I don't normally let people even touch them."

She smiled slightly at his thoughtfulness before shaking her head and chuckling. "Sorry, but I don't dig Marvel…or any other comic books out there so…" She flimsily handed it back to him.

He stared at her with a scandalous expression and then fumbled with the comic book. "But it's Marvel! It's like the best thing ever!" he said, almost screaming in protest. "You can't not like Marvel! I have never seen anyone who doesn't like Marvel before!"

She shrugged. "Guess I'm the first," she said with an apologetic smile.

He gaped at her for a moment longer as his brain seemed to be processing the seemingly shocking news. Finally, he closed his mouth with a sigh and shook his head in disappointment as he placed the comic back on top of the pile and twisted the chair to face her completely.

"So what do you wanna do now? Instead of reading Marvel, which I still think is completely insane and unreasonable and stupid," he remarked with all honesty.

"Stupid?" Quinn teased, smirking. "You dare call me stupid?" He gave her an unamused look. She laughed and shook her head. "Joking," she added. Her laughter died down and she turned back to him with curiosity. "So why aren't you working?"

"I'm done filming," he answered with a casual shrug, picking up the comic book he was holding before and flipped to the front page.

She was taken aback momentarily before she recovered. "What? Since when?"

"Last night." He looked up at her with his goofy grin again. "So I graciously offered myself as your companion for the day, seeing as you're stuck still stuck in bed." He winked at her and snickered. She narrowed her eyes slightly. "And I have nothing to do until the wrap party so…" He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and gave her an expression that said _Why not_?

"Aw," she drew out. "You're sweet."

"You only realized this now?" he said with his signature half smirk.

"And modest too," she remarked.

He chuckled and nodded to himself with a smug look on his face. "My best quality."

She laughed out loud at that. "You know, I didn't realize you were so nice until recently," she said with a soft smile. "It's kind of nice to know that I've gained a friend from this."

"Likewise, Fabray. Likewise," he replied. "I guess we were just too overtaken by our feelings for Rachel to actually be civil with each other. I'm glad we're over that now." There was a glint in his eyes that raised her suspicions. Her gaze stayed on him until he finally got spooked and he frowned at her. "Why are you staring at me like I'm bacon?"

She blinked and opened her mouth wide, the edges tugged by a grin. "I don't stare at anyone except Rachel like meat," she said. His eyes widened at her words. "And I'm staring at you like a predator…because you have something to hide."

She swore his eyes couldn't get any wider. She gave him her signature eyebrow raise and smirk. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he finally said, gave her look and went back to his comic book.

"Oh come on! I thought we were best friends!"

He looked up with a naughty grin. "You say what now?" His tone was laced with incredulity and laughter.

"I thought we're best friends!" she repeated with the same whiny tone as before. "What are you hiding?" she asked loudly, climbing onto her knees and crawled nearer to punch his shoulder playfully.

He looked at her for a moment before frowning and tilting his head. "Are you high?" he asked.

Her gaze turned into a glare and she reached out to punch him again, harder this time. He yelped and rubbed his arm. "I am not high!" she enunciated. "Now tell me!"

"Are you always so bossy and violent?" Finn remarked. When her arm shot out again, he pushed the chair back a few paces, getting out of her reach quickly. "Hey!" he yelled.

"I prefer the words 'powerful' or 'fierce' or 'determined'." She offered him a fake smile. "Now, are you gonna tell me or do I have to get out of this bed to force it out of you?"

"It's nothing big!" he proclaimed.

"I'm bored."

He gaped at her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm bored. I want to talk about stuff. Any stuff. And whatever you're hiding is probably worth my time to talk about. So out with it! What are you hiding?"

He groaned and threw his head back, hanging against the chair back. "I met a girl." She raised a brow at the new information. "It was the night after my first visit to you. You know, when we had that talk about Rachel. I went for a drink that night. The girl's a bartender there. We talked. I got her number."

She stared at him for a moment before huffing. "Why would you hide something like that? It's a good thing!"

"Because I haven't talked to her since that night. I haven't called her or anything. I figured she would've met another guy at this point." She slapped him on the arm and he jumped, glaring at her. "Would you stop hitting me?"

"I would if you'd stop being an idiot!" she hissed. "Why haven't you called her?"

His features fell and he sighed, looking down at his lap. He ran his hand through his hair and released another sigh. He shrugged and gave her a helpless look. "I'm a coward. I couldn't bring myself to call her. I was afraid she didn't like me. And it's not usually good for an actor's public image to date a bartender."

She frowned at his logic. "You'd choose your career over your happiness?" she asked incredulously.

He stammered, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he grunted and rubbed his face with his hand. "My career's only starting to bloom, Quinn. You have to understand that I've been working really hard at this business for a long time and this is the first time I've landed a role this huge! I can't let it go just like that."

"But what if she could make you happy?" She stared at him with both of her brows raised. She gestured in the air and said, "What if you could find real happiness with her? What if you have a future with her?"

"Quinn," Finn started protesting.

"No," Quinn interrupted. "I know being a celebrity is tough. I know you like being an actor. I know all that. Hell, I'm in love with one of them!" Finn smiled slightly at that. "But I also know that it's not easy to find happiness. I've been there and done that. I chose my career over the love of my life and look where I ended up at. You need to snag this chance before it's too late. Because once it's too late, you won't know when you'll find another chance like this again."

Finn fidgeted with his fingers as he contemplated her words, his jaw working as he shifted in his seat. She watched him as he mulled over her advice. He had turned into a good friend and she wanted him to be happy. With whomever it was that could give him that.

"I guess I'll call her tonight and see if we can go out sometime," he muttered at last with a reluctant smile. She grinned and nodded. "You give good pep talks."

She shrugged with a smug look. "I have my ways."

* * *

Quinn was slaying soldiers on Call of Duty with Finn when Rachel and the rest came home. He'd gone to the mansion to pick up the Xbox in the game room and plugged it in her bedroom after an hour of talking nonsense.

He had initially tried to get her to read the comic books again but she straight out refused. She said they were immature and fictional and completely exaggerated. Finn had protested her remarks but she stood her ground. God knows how stubborn she could be. He admitted defeat and suggested Call of Duty for her.

She had played the game with Sam and Puck whenever she came home from the army on leave. They had taught her the basics and she quickly learned how to maneuver through things by herself. At the end of the day, she defeated both of them in the game with flying colors.

Now, she came to find out that Finn Hudson was quite the opponent at the game. He easily disappeared from her point of view and even got in a few shots on her avatar. They had been playing for about two hours, with Quinn in the lead at 3:1

Her victories were certainly hard fought, as she was always found herself hanging on the edge of her 'life' , just barely defeating Finn each time.

They were fully concentrated on their fourth round and they didn't even have the politeness to greet their visitors when they came in. Their eyes stayed focused on the TV screens, each of them pressing frantically over random buttons on their respective controllers. There would be an occasional twitch on Quinn's lips or a sporadic smirk on Finn's.

Rachel and Santana had given up trying to gain their attention and they all – Rachel, Santana, Brittany, Puck, Sam and Kurt – gathered behind Finn to avoid blocking the gamers view. Their animosity towards each other was shown on screen as they showed not a slice of mercy at all as they pitted against each other.

And just in a short moment, the whole group had become completely engrossed in the gunshot battle going on screen. Rachel would gasp when Quinn nearly got shot. Santana would release chuckles when Quinn successfully took a portion of Finn's 'life'. Puck and Sam would whistle whenever they displayed some awesome skills they could never achieve themselves. Brittany was grinning the whole time while Kurt was watching with nonchalance.

The room grew tense as their battle neared the end, everyone waiting to see who would be victorious... Quinn and Finn began to be less careless and more cautious, searching for the others avatar. It was obvious that Quinn was the more careful one of the two.

Rachel subconsciously held onto Quinn's shoulder when she saw what Quinn saw. Finn was so concentrated on his point of view that he didn't notice that Quinn had found him. Rachel allowed a distracted glance to Quinn and gulped when she saw the incredibly sexy smirk on the blonde's face as she aimed and pressed the button to pull the trigger.

Then Finn's avatar dropped dead. And the round was over.

Quinn released a maniacal laugh and cheered and whooped in her bed, doing a dorky upper body dance as Finn gaped as the screen. When Finn turned to her with an incredulous look, she laughed louder and leaned forward to ruffle his hair, giving him a mock kiss.

She winked at him and giggled. "I win."

he continued her victory dance, singing at the top of her lungs and throwing her arms in the air at the most random time intervals. Finn couldn't help but smile at her in the end. Quinn didn't even seem to realize that she had an amused and happy audience as she kept on acting ridiculous. It was a version of herself that rarely made appearances. Finn decided that his loss was worth it.

* * *

**if you're angry with me for being so late in updating, you have to understand why. i may not be a big Finn fan, but i am a fan of Cory Monteith. i may not worship him, but he's still one of the people who rescued me from spiraling out of control. to be honest, i don't think i'd even be alive if it wasn't for the cast - which included him. he's among the cast, he's one of my inspirations, his silliness and his half smirks and his awkward moves made me smile and laugh. **

**sure, Finn Hudson can be an asshole, but Cory Monteith is not. Cory Monteith is sweet and funny and tall and awkward and talented and he's a _person_. i respect him and i love him and i really really miss him. i have been crying for three days straight since i've heard of the news and i certainly wasn't in the mood to write. but now that i've mustered the strength to write, i wanna dedicate this chapter to him. **

**rest in peace, Cory. rest easy, big guy.**


End file.
